8TORB 

X^ 

.    ( 


%/*4"(*J. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  LESSONS  FROM  LIFE. 


'Riches  certainly  make  themselves  wings;  they  fly  away  as  an  eagle." 
PROVERBS  xxxiii.  5. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
PKESBYTEKIAN  BOARD  OF  PUBLICATION. 


CONTEXTS. 


HO.  PAGE 

I.  THE  GOLD-DIGGER 5 

II.  THE  BELIEVING  TRADESMAN 52 

III.  POOR  PEARSON 78 

IV.  How  LARRY  BOND  GOT  ENOUGH ..    95 

V.  THE  PENITENT  GAMBLER 120 

VI.  THE  ODD  FIFTEEN 141 

VII.  THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH 156 

VIII.  ROBBING  THE  DEAD 192 

IX.  COMPROMISE 211 

X.  QUALITY  FCGG'S  OLD  LEDGER 223 

3 


-  .  -  . 


2212580 


BICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER. 


CHAPTER   I. 

HAVE  been  very  ill :  I  am  ill  now ;  and 
the  doctor  confirms  my  fears  that  I  have  not 
many  months  to  live.  I  have  been  fever- 
stricken,  and  I  am  very,  very  weak. 
I  am  in  miserable  lodgings  here  in  Melbourne ; 
it  is  summer  and  the  heat  is  stifling.  If  I  could 
but  breathe  the  air  of  home,  I  think  it  would  re- 
vive me.  It  is  my  only  chance,  the  doctor  says. 
In  another  week  I  shall  be  out  at  sea. 

I  cannot  stop  here :  I  must  make  toward  home, 
though  I  may  never  reach  it.  I  dream  about 
home  every  night,  and  think  about  it  all  the  day 
till  I  am  consumed  with  impatience.  It  is  torment 
to  me  to  feel  that  I  am  lingering  here,  unknown 
and  uncared  for,  while  at  the  other  side  of  the 
world  are  kind,  loving  and  forgiving  hearts. 


6  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

1'oor,  poor  Grace ! 

I  shall  try  and  write  my  story — a  gold-digger's 
story.  It  will  be  a  relief  to  me  from  the  tyranny 
of  my  thoughts  and  the  dreary  monotony  of  these 
four  bare  and  filthy  walls,  and  from  the  dread  of 
my  mysterious  landlord,  who  never  enters  my  room 
but  his  eyes  wander  over  every  part  of  it  as  though 
in  search  of  something  he  cannot  find.  He  knows 
me  to  have  been  a  gold-digger,  supposes  I  have 
been  successful,  and  tries  to  find  out  what  I  have 
done  with  the  gold  I  gathered.  I  do  not  know 
what  thoughts  pass  through  his  mind,  but  he  is  a 
depraved,  unscrupulous  man,  and  I  fear  him.  He 
would  be  disappointed,  however,  if  he  thinks  he 
should  profit  by  my  death,  for  I  have  little  with 
me  in  my  lodgings  to  tempt  him  to  deal  foully  or 
treacherously.  If  I  die  here  or  on  my  passage 
home,  the  gold  for  which  I  have  sacrificed  so  much 
will,  I  hope,  have  reached  poor  Grace  safely. 

I  have  been  married  five  years;  I  had  three 
children,  and  my  occupation  was  farming.  I  was 
needy  and  wanted  to  be  rich  without  waiting  for 
the  dilatory  returns  of  industry;  and  "he  that 
makcth  haste  to  be  rich  shall  not  be  innocent."  I 
have  not  been  innocent. 

I  liked  society,  and  I  found  it.     On  the  next 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  7 

farm  to  mine  was  a  young  man,  the  son  of  my 
neighbour,  who  captivated  my  fancy  by  his  ready 
wit  and  exuberant  spirits.  If  these  were  good 
qualities,  they  were,  I  fear,  almost  his  only  good 
ones.  He  was  a  confirmed  and  boastful  profligate 
and  an  idle  spendthrift.  He  was  two  or  three  years 
older  than  myself,  had  been  unsuccessful  in  business 
— he  could  scarcely  have  been  otherwise — had  half 
ruined  his  health  by  excesses  and  his  parents  by 
extravagance;  and  at  the  time  I  formed  his  ac- 
quaintance he  was  living  upon  them  in  a  sort  of 
lazy  independence  of  control. 

Let  me  give  myself  credit  for  ignorance  of  the 
real  character  of  Wilfred  Raikes  at  that  time,  and 
that  while  his  father  encouraged  our  growing 
friendship  he  concealed  from  me,  as  far  as  he  was 
able,  the  worst  points  in  his  son's  character  and  his 
own  disapprobation  of  his  conduct.  I  believe  that 
the  old  farmer  looked  upon  me  as  a  young  man  of 
correct  principles,  and  hoped  that  my  example  would 
exercise  a  favourable  influence  over  his  son. 

It  was  an  unhappy  error.  My  principles  were 
outwardly  correct,  because  they  had  never  been 
severely  tested,  but  they  hrd  no  right  foundation 
— let  me  rather  say  no  deep  foundation :  I  was  not 
"  rooted  and  grounded." 


8  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINOS. 

Wilfred  Raikes  had  a  strong  and  obstinate  will, 
and  a  powerful  though  ill-regulated  mind.  Of  me 
it  might  liave  been  said,  "  Unstable  as  water,  thou 
slialt  not  excel ; "  or  that  I  was  "  like  a  wave  of  the 
sea,  driven  with  the  wind  and  tossed.  What  wonder, 
then,  that  he  soon  drew  me  aside,  tempted  me  to 
idleness  and  folly,  and  even  worse  sins  than  these — 
that  I  neglected  my  business  and  my  home  ?  "  He 
that  walketh  with  wise  men  shall  be  wise,  but  a 
companion  of  fools  shall  be  destroyed."  Such  a 
companion  was  I. 

My  poor  Grace — my  wife — was  slow  to  believe 
how  I  was  changed;  and  when  the  conviction 
forced  itself  on  her  that  my  principles,  such  as  they 
were,  were  being  undermined,  and  that  quiet  do- 
mestic happiness  had  lost  its  charms  for  me,  she  did 
not  reproach  me.  She  tried  to  win  me  back  again : 
only  once  did  she  venture  to  remonstrate  with  me 
on  my  constant  companionship  with  Wilfred  Raikes. 
I  answered  her  angrily  :  I  would  not  be  dictated  to 
as  to  my  friendships,  and  I  vindicated  my  friend 
from  her  charges.  He  had  enemies,  I  said,  who 
were  ready  enough  to  magnify  his  failings;  let 
them  look  to  their  own.  Poor  Grace  was  answered 
and  silenced. 

I  returned  home  one  night  very  far  from  sober. 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  9 

I  had  been  with  Wilfred,  as  usual,  and  I  had  been 
drinking  success  to  him  and  his  projects. 

"You  won't  be  troubled  much  longer  with 
Wilfred  Raikes,"  I  said  to  Grace ;  "  he  is  going 
away." 

"  Is  he,  Mark  ?"  she  replied  faintly,  but  I  thought 
eagerly  too,  and  I  added,  tauntingly :  "  You  are 
very  glad  to  hear  it,  I  suppose,  Grace." 

"I  did  not  say  so,  dear  Mark,"  she  answered, 
meekly. 

"  No,  but  you  looked  as  though  you  thought  so," 
I  said  angrily,  for  I  was  stung  by  her  very  gentle- 
ness. "  You  know  that  you  are  glad  he  is  going. 
Is  it  not  so?" 

"  I  think  you  should  not  ask  such  a  question  in 
that  way,  Mark,"  my  poor  wife  remonstrated ;  "  but 
do  not  let  us  quarrel  about  it.  Where  is  Wilfred 
Raikes  going  ?" 

He  was  going  far  enough  away,  I  replied.  His 
father  was  going  to  fit  him  out  for  Australia  :  "and 
you  are  glad  he  is  going,  I  know,"  I  persisted. 

"  If  you  know  it,  Mark,  you  need  not  have  asked 
the  question,"  said  Grace;  "but  I  do  not  know 
why  you  should  say  that  you  know  it  unless — " 

"  Unless  what  ?"  I  demanded,  for  my  wife  stop- 
ped abruptly  short. 


10  RICHES  WITHOUT   WINGS. 

"I  would  rather  not  say  what  came  to  my  mind 
at  that  moment,  Mark.  You  are  heated  now,  dear 
husband,  and  vexed.  Do  not  let  us  say  any  more 
about  it." 

"  Unless  what  ?"  I  said  again,  in  a  loud  and  I 
am  afraid  a  threatening  tone,  which  served  to  ter- 
rify my  poor  Grace.  "  Tell  me  what  you  mean," 
I  added. 

"  Unless  your  conscience  accuses  you  of  having 
taken  to  bad  ways  through  your  friendship  with 
Wilfred  Raikes,"  said  Grace  in  a  low  voice ;  "  but, 
dear  Mark,  I  do  not  mean  to  say  anything  un- 
kind." 

I  was  very  angry — angry  with  poor  Grace, 
because  she  had  spoken  only  the  truth.  My  con- 
science had  often  accused  me,  as  she  said,  but  I 
did  not  choose  to  be  told  of  it :  I  was  not  going  to 
have  a  conscience-keeper  in  my  wife. 

A  week  after  this  and  Wilfred  Raikes  had  left 
his  father's  house,  and  I  had  a  letter  from  him  to 
tell  me  that  he  had  taken  his  passage  and  should 
set  sail  for  Australia  in  the  course  of  three  or  four 
days.  He  urged  me  to  go  to  London  and  see  him 
on  board  the  vessel.  I  did  not  show  this  letter  to 
Grace,  for  I  had  not  forgiven  her ;  and  if  I  had,  I 
knew  very  well  she  would  have  opposed  my  going 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  11 

to  London  on  such  an  errand ;  and  I  had  made  up 
my  mind  to  go. 

Two  days  after  this  was  market-day  at  H . 

I  usually  attended  this  market,  which  was  eight  or 
nine  miles  from  home;  and  it  did  not  surprise 
Grace  that  I  made  ready  soon  after  breakfast  for 
the  journey.  It  did  surprise  her,  however,  that, 
instead  of  driving  in  our  light  cart  or  riding  to 
market,  I  announced  my  intention  of  walking. 
She  little  thought  that  I  intended  to  take  the  train 

from  H to  London  as  soon  as  my  market 

business  was  transacted,  and  that  I  should  not 
have  known  what  to  do  with  my  horse. 

And  so  I  left  home.  I  did  not  think  then  that 
years  would  pass  away,  and — shall  I  ever  again  see 
that  home  ?  or  if  God  should  spare  my  life  to  reach 
it,  will  it  be  only  to  die  there  ? 

I  remember  that  last  leaving  of  home :  dear 
Grace  standing  at  the  door  with  our  infant  in  her 
arms,  watching  me  across  the  meadow;  and  our 
little  Grace  following  me  as  fast  as  she  could  run, 
and  crying  out,  "You  did  not  kiss  me,  father." 
If  I  had  then  had  a  thought  of  the  madness  which 
afterward  possessed  me,  surely  I  should  have  been 
subdued  and  have  abandoned  the  guilty  intention. 
As  it  is,  the  remembrance  of  that  child's  kiss  is  a 


12  RICHES   WITHOUT  WIN  OS. 

reproach  and  a  misery.  Truly,  "  the  way  of  trans- 
gressors is  hard."  What  should  be  happiness  is  a 
barbed  arrow  in  the  soul. 

I  walked  on  and  fast,  thinking  of  my  stolen 
journey.  I  had  put  money  enough  in  my  purse  to 
pay  my  expenses  to  London  and  back  and  a  little 
over,  for  I  intended  to  have  a  day's  enjoyment 

with  Wilfred  before  he  started.  I  arrived  at  H 

and  entered  the  market-room,  thinking  very  little 
of  business,  however,  when  a  miller,  to  whom  I  had 
lately  sold  a  quantity  of  wheat,  came  to  me,  and, 
to  my  surprise,  offered  to  pay  me  the  purchase- 
money,  for  it  was  not  due.  It  was  nearly  fifty 
pounds. 

That  afternoon  I  wrote  a  hasty  note  to  Grace, 
and  entrusted  it  to  a  neighbour  who  was  returning 
from  market,  and  who  promised  that  it  should  be 
delivered  to  my  wife  that  evening.  I  told  him — 
and  I  repeated  it  in  my  note — that  I  had  been  unex- 
pectedly called  to  London  on  business  and  should 
be  absent  two  days.  The  pretence  of  business  was 
of  course  false,  but  the  intention  of  returning  at  the 
time  I  fixed  was  genuine.  I  write  this  now  and 
solemnly,  because  I  find  that  I  have  been,  natu- 
rally enough,  accused  of  having  planned  the  flight 
from  creditors  before  I  left  home. 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  13 

I  went  to  London  by  rail,  and  had  no  difficulty 
in  finding  Wilfred  Raikes  at  his  temporary  lodg- 
ings. I  will  pass  over  in  sad  silence  the  history 
of  that  evening.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  I  accom- 
panied him  the  next  day  to  his  vessel  with  a  bewil- 
dered head. 

All  on  board  was  bustle  and  confusion.  The 
deck  was  crowded  and  loaded,  so  that  there  was 
hardly,  room  to  set  our  feet,  and  we  went  down  to 
Wilfred's  berth. 

"  Now,  Mark,"  he  said,  when  we  were  by  our- 
selves, "  you  are  going  with  me,  you  know  ?" 

I  laughed,  and  he  laughed  too;  but  he  knew 
what  he  was  doing,  and  he  knew  also  that  I  was 
weak-headed. 

He  knew  more  than  this — knew  that  my  circum- 
stances were  fearfully  embarrassed;  that  two  or 
three  years  of  criminal  negligence  and  idleness,  at 
a  time  too  when  double  care  and  diligence  were 
required  to  make  farming  even  a  paying,  to  say 
nothing  of  a  gainful  business,  had  thrown  me 
behind ;  that  an  execution  for  rent  was  threatened 
and  hanging  over  me  by  my  landlord ;  and  that 
other  creditors  were  impatient  for  their  money. 
He  knew  all  this,  for  I  had  made  him  my  confi- 
dant. Poor  Grace  knew  nothing  of  it  from  me, 


14  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

though  she  could  not  but  be  aware  that  things  were 
going  wrong  with  our  worldly  affairs. 

Wilfred  Raikes  knew  also  that  I  had  fifty  pounds 
in  my  pocket;  for  on  the  preceding  evening  I  had 
boastfully  emptied  my  purse  and  counted  the 
money  before  him. 

I  shall  not  repeat  the  arguments  he  used  to 
induce  me  to  abscond — how  he  accompanied  his 
persuasions  with  visions  of  wealth  to  be  obtained 
in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time  in  the  newly- 
discovered  gold  regions  to  which  he  was  going,  and 
with  the  certain  promise  of  a  speedy  return  to 
England  with  riches  ten  times  more  than  enough 
to  purchase  indemnity  for  the  freak,  if  any  were 
required.  But  why  any  should  be  required  he  did 
not  see.  Was  I  not  free  to  do  as  I  pleased  ?  If  I 
chose  to  take  a  trip  to  the  other  side  of  the  world 
for  a  few  months  or  a  year  or  two,  who  was  there 
to  say  me  nay  ?  As  to  my  wife,  why  she  would 
like  me  all  the  better  on  my  return,  and  would  be 
the  first  to  thank  me  for  my  courage  and  decision 
when  she  should  find  herself  delivered  from  the 
dread  of  poverty  by  the  success  of  which  he  assured 
me. 

My  imagination  was  fired.  Prospects  of  enor- 
mous gain  rose  before  me.  I  had  lately  read  of  a 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  15 

fortunate  gold-digger  who  had  in  one  happy  day 
discovered  a  deposit  of  the  precious  metal  worth 
thousands  of  pounds ;  and  of  others  who,  by  a  few 
weeks'  labour,  had  enriched  themselves  for  life; 
and  what  should  hinder  me  from  following  the 
same  track  ?  Strange  that  I  had  never  thought  of 
this  before ! 

On  the  other  hand,  if  I  should  return  home  to 
poor  Grace  and  my  family  and  farm,  it  would  be 
almost  as  a  ruined  man,  with  difficulties  accumu- 
lating around  me  and  hemming  me  in  on  every  side 
— difficulties  which  would  only  be  overcome,  if  at  all, 
by  patient  endurance  and  stern  resolution,  by  un- 
ceasing industry  and  rigid  economy  through  many 
years. 

I  shrank  from  this  thought.  The  very  idea 
terrified  me,  and  I  could  escape  from  the  reality 
by  one  bold  stroke.  Poor  Grace!  I  had  a  few 
compunctious  thoughts  about  leaving  her  to  endure 
that  from  which  I  was  tempted  to  flee ;  and  I  pic- 
tured to  myself,  for  a  moment,  the  sorrow  she 
would  feel  on  knowing  herself  to  be  deserted  by 
me.  But  I  would  not  think  of  this.  I  persuaded 
myself  that  her  love  to  me  had  cooled,  and  that 
she  would  not  look  on  my  absence  as  a  great  trial. 
At  any  rate,  I  should  feel  the  separation  as  keenly 


16  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

as  she  was  likely  to  feel  it ;  so  that  account  was 
fairly  balanced.  I  tried  to  persuade  myself,  too, 
that  when  I  was  gone  she  would  receive  assistance 
which  I  could  not  hope  for  from  her  own  family 
and  friends.  And  as  to  desertion,  it  could  not  be 
that:  it  would  be  but  a  lawful  separation  for  a 
time.  In  two  years  I  would  return  rich — rich. 

I  had  even  the  impiety  to  press  Providence  into 
my  service,  and  to  argue  in  my  secret  mind  that 
the  unexpected  receipt  of  that  fifty  pounds  was  in- 
tended to  make  my  way  clear  and  easy.  If  I  had 
not  had  that  money  with  me — . 

Wilfred,  seeing  that  I  hesitated,  redoubled  his 
arguments  and  persuasions.  At  length,  in  a  delir- 
ium of  conflicting  motions,  I  consented. 

There  was  just  time  to  make  necessary  arrange- 
ments. One  or  two  berths  were  unoccupied,  though 
the  vessel  was  to  leave  the  docks  the  next  day. 
We  hastened  on  shore  to  the  shipbroker's,  and 
paid  the  passage-money  which  secured  a  berth  in 
the  steerage ;  to  the  outfitters,  and  purchased  suit- 
able equipments ;  to  provision-dealers,  and  laid  in 
a  sufficient  stock  of  necessaries  for  the  long  voyage. 
In  all  these  arrangements  Wilfred  Raikes — who 
kept  close  by  me,  fearing,  perhaps,  that  at  the  last 
moment  I  should  repent  my  rash  adventure — was 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  17 

of  great  use  to  me,  as  he  had  had  to  pass  through 
the  same  experience  for  himself. 

It  was  done.  The  next  day  we  were  on  board : 
late  in  the  evening  a  steam-tug  was  towing  our 
heavily-freighted  vessel  down  the  river;  a  week 
later,  and  we  were  out  at  sea — that  sea  which,  in 
its  troubled  and  agitated  state,  was  no  unmeet  em- 
blem of  my  own  guilty  mind. 


CHAPTER  ir. 

I  HAD  written  to  Grace  to  inform  her  of  my 
flight,  and  posted  the  letter  at  Portsmouth  just 
before  our  vessel  weighed  anchor  there.  By  the 
time  she  received  this  I  should  be  beyond  the 
reach  of  pursuit,  if  pursuit  had  been  thought  of. 
I  was  safe,  therefore,  and  determined  to  cast  off 
all  compunctious  thoughts  and  enjoy  the  long  out- 
ward-bound voyage. 

There  was  little  enjoyment,  however.  There 
would  not  have  been  much  pleasure  if  my  mind 
had  been  at  ease,  for  the  vessel  was  inconveniently 
crowded  and  badly  provisioned ;  the  captain  was 
tyrannical  toward  the  steerage  passengers,  who  were 
at  his  mercy ;  and  the  passengers  themselves  were 
depraved  and  disorderly.  The  voyage  was  stormy, 


18  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

and  the  scenes  on  board  were  daily  disgusting  and 
often  fearful.  On  one  occasion  a  mutiny  arose 
among  the  passengers  :  Wilfred  Raikes  was  one  of 
the  leaders,  and  after  a  fierce  contest,  when  the  up- 
roar had  partially  subsided,  he  was  subjected  to  u 
week's  confinement  for  the  part  he  had  taken.  For 
myself,  I  was  too  ill  at  the  time  to  feel  any  strong 
interest  in  these  proceedings,  and  thus  probably  I 
escaped  sharing  his  punishment,  for  his  influence 
over  me  was  as  strong  as  ever. 

Did  I  repent  the  step  I  had  taken  ?  I  think 
not.  I  could  not  forget  my  poor  wife  and  our 
children  ;  and  while  lying  neglected  and  miserable 
in  my  berth,  and  subjected  to  numberless  indig- 
nities from  those  around  me,  besides  suffering  in- 
tense pain,  I  thought  how  kindly  and  lovingly 
Grace  would  have  nursed  and  comforted  me,  and, 
groaning  with  impatience,  I  wished  myself  back 
again  in  my  own  chamber ;  but  as  I  gradually  got 
better  the  temporary  penitence  vanished,  and  I 
thought  of  nothing  so  much  as  the  wealth  I  should 
accumulate  when  the  voyage  was  over.  My  very 
dreams  were  of  gold.  I  had  heard  it  said  that 
even  gold  may  be  bought  too  dear,  but  I  would  not 
admit  the  thought.  I  know  the  truth  of  that  say- 
ing now,  and  can  understand  what  is  meant  in  the 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  19 

Bible  where  it  is  said  that  "  they  that  will  be  rich 
fall  into  temptation  and  a  snare,  and  into  many 
foolish  and  hurtful  lusts  which  drown  men  in  de- 
struction and  perdition."  Truly  have  I,  in  covet- 
ing riches,  "pierced"  myself  "through  with  many 
sorrows." 

At  length  the  wretched  four  months  of  our 
voyage  were  over,  and  we  arrived  at  Melbourne. 
This  is  three  years  ago ;  I  have  been  self-banished 
three  years,  and  if  I  ever  live  to  see  home  again, 
it  will  be  but  to  die  there. 

"  The  tender  mercies  of  the  wicked  are  cruel." 
All  that  I  suffered  then  and  have  suffered  since 
was  merited.  I  deserved  to  be  betrayed  and  de- 
serted, but  I  did  not  deserve  it  of  Wilfred  Raikes, 
my  prompter  and  tempter. 

During  the  later  portion  of  my  voyage  I  had 
seen  that  he  had  cooled  toward  me,  and  had  formed 
a  connection  with  two  men  with  whom  even  I, 
guilty  as  I  was,  neither  could  nor  would  associate. 
This  had  partially  separated  us;  nevertheless,  on 
reaching  Melbourne,  Wilfred  and  I  agreed  to  carry 
out  our  plans  in  company  as  we  had  previously 
determined.  We  procured  lodgings  therefore, 
though  with  some  difficulty,  for  the  place  was  over- 
filled, and  took  possession  of  them.  Of  my  fifty 


20  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

pounds,  not  above  fifteen  were  left,  and  I  calculated 
that  I  should  require  this  sum  to  furnish  myself 
with  tools  and  other  necessary  equipments  for  the 
diggings.  "What  then  was  my  agony  on  discover- 
ing two  days  after  landing  that  Wilfred  Raikes 
had  suddenly  departed  in  company  with  his  netf 
friends,  after  having  robbed  me  of  all  my  money, 
thus  leaving  me  absolutely  destitute ! 

I  proclaimed  the  wrong  I  had  suffered,  but  no 
one  heeded  me  or  offered  to  assist  me.  In  my  de- 
spair I  carried  my  complaints  to  the  police  court, 
and  was  laughed  at  when  I  asked  for  redress.  I 
was  turned  out  of  my  lodgings  with  insult  and 
abuse,  and  for  several  days  I  was  on  the  brink  of 
starvation,  wandering  through  the  day  in  search 
of  employment  which  I  could  not  find,  and  resting 
at  night  on  the  muddy  wharves  of  the  river.  For 
the  first  time  in  my  life  I,  like  the  poor  prodigal 
of  the  parable,  "  began  to  be  in  want." 

"  And  no  man  gave  unto"  me.  It  seemed  as 
though  the  hurried,  feverish  pursuit  of  gold  had 
hardened  every  human  heart  there.  At  length, 
when  almost  crushed  and  despairing,  I  obtained 
work. 

For  six  months  I  toiled  at  road-making,  and  re- 
ceived wages  barely  sufficient  to  sustain  life.  Yet 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  21 

even  then  I  had  no  desire  to  return  home:  my 
thirst  for  wealth  increased  upon  me.  I  saw  re- 
turned gold-diggers,  in  the  full  flush  of  recent  suc- 
cess, scattering  prodigally  around  them  and  con- 
suming on  their  lusts  and  appetites  the  fruits  of 
their  labours ;  and  the  wives  whom  they  had  left 
behind  them  at  Melbourne  in  destitution  and  mis- 
ery indescribable,  I  now  saw  flaunting  in  the  filthy 
streets  in  silks,  satins  and  jewelry,  purchased  as 
I  knew  at  enormous  cost ;  and  I  was  maddened  to 
excitement  at  the  thought  that  the  loss  of  the  few 
pounds  of  which  my  false  friend  had  robbed  me 
had  barred  my  present  access  to  the  regions  of  gold. 

I  redoubled  my  efforts,  rigidly  curtailed  my  ex- 
penses, and  sought  the  acquaintance  of  others  who, 
like  myself,  panted  for  the  acquirement  of  wealth. 
If  I  had  laboured  and  striven  half  as  hard  on  my 
farm  in  England  as  I  laboured  and  strove  to  earn 
and  lay  by  a  scanty  pittance  in  Australia,  I  might 
at  this  time  have  been  happy  and  prosperous,  with 
my  wife  and  family  around  me.  Such  reflections 
as  these  crowded  into  my  mind  at  times,  but  it 
was  too  late,  and  I  strove  to  banish  them. 

At  the  end  of  six  months  I  had  saved  money 
enough  to  purchase  a  few  tools,  and  so  had  my 
new  associates,  or,  if  they  had  not  saved,  by  some 


22  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINQS. 

means  they  had  obtained  money.  There  were  two 
of  them ;  both  were  dissolute  men,  and  ignorant 
almost  "as  the  beasts  that  perish."  In  my  better 
days  at  home  I  should  have  shrunk  from  such 
companionship,  but  my  intercourse  with  Wilfred 
Raikes  had  familiarized  me  with  low  vice  and  cun- 
ning, and  prepared  me  for  lower  depths  of  igno- 
miny. Besides,  there  was  one  common  point  of 
attraction — we  were  each  of  us  madly  hankering 
after  wealth.  The  men  also  had  previously  been 
gold-diggers — had  found  gold  and  returned  with  it 
to  Melbourne  to  squander  it  in  criminal  follies; 
they  knew,  therefore,  how  to  proceed.  So  our  co- 
partnership was  formed. 

The  journey  was  long  and  laborious,  yet  there 
was  no  danger  that  we  should  lose  our  way,  for  the 
track  made  by  thousands  of  heavy  footsteps  going 
and  returning  was  broad  and  palpable ;  and  we 
daily  met  straggling  parties  of  returning  diggers, 
some  exulting  in  their  success,  but  more  downcast 
and  maddened  with  disappointment,  and  all  hag- 
gard and  toil-worn.  There  were  rude  huts  on  the 
road  too,  at  long  distances  apart,  where  bread  and 
biscuits  and  spirits  and  beer  were  to  be  obtained 
by  those  who  had  money  or  native  gold.  But  for 
these  we  should  have  starved  on  the  road,  and  very 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  23 

soon  our  scanty  stock  of  money  was  exhausted,  and 
yet  we  struggled  on.  To  have  gone  back  indeed 
would  have  been  worse. 

Had  my  conscience  been  at  ease — if  I  had  felt 
myself  in  the  path  of  duty — my  condition  then 
would  have  been  miserable  enough,  worn  out  with 
fatigue  as  I  was,  and  my  only  companions  men  of 
the  lowest  grade  of  uncultivated  intellect,  and  fa- 
miliar, as  I  by  this  time  had  reason  to  believe,  with 
deeds  of  dishonesty  and  violence,  perhaps  of  blood- 
shed ;  for  they  made  no  scruple  of  boasting  of 
former  deeds,  and  seemed  to  treat  me  as  a  co-part- 
ner in  their  guilty  intentions  as  well  as  in  lawful 
gains. 

And  yet,  miserable  as  I  was,  I  would  not  suffer 
my  memory  to  dwell  upon  the  past.  I  had  com- 
mitted myself  to  a  desperate  course,  and  I  would 
go  on  or  perish  in  the  attempt  to  obtain  wealth. 

At  length,  exhausted  with  fatigue,  we  reached 

the  end  of  our  journey,  the diggings.  It  was 

a  strange  and  motley  scene,  which,  in  other  and 
happier  states  of  mind,  would  have  amused  me. 
There  was  a  monster  encampment ;  many  hundreds 
of  tents  of  all  sizes  and  descriptions,  together  with 
rude  huts  or  gungahs,  filled  up  the  valley  and  en- 
croached on  the  neighbouring  hills.  Ten  thousand 


24  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

men,  it  was  computed,  were  gathered  in  the  valley 
at  that  time,  all  eager  for  gain  ;  the  greater  number 
working  the  ground  for  gold,  but  many  taking  a 
surer  if  a  somewhat  slower  road  to  prosperity  by 
supplying  the  wants  of  the  strange  community. 

I  have  but  little  heart,  however,  to  describe  the 
scenes  I  witnessed,  and  those  who  may  read  this 
story  of  mine  have  doubtless  elsewhere  met  with 
more  graphic  descriptions  than  I  could  give.  Let 
me  continue,  then,  to  write  of  myself  and  what 
concerns  my  own  immediate  history. 

With  difficulty  my  partners  and  I  fixed  upon  a 
spot  to  commence  our  labours,  and  obtained  on 
credit  the  necessary  license  to  work.  We  had 
neither  money  nor  provisions,  and  we  slept  that 
night  unsheltered  and  hungry  on  the  hillside.  On 
the  morrow  we  began  to  handle  pick  and  shovel. 

It  might  be  that  physical  weakness  was  creeping 
over  me,  or  that,  unused  to  continuous  exertion,  I 
had  miscalculated  my  powers  of  endurance;  but, 
from  whatever  cause,  I  felt  myself  unequal  to  the 
labour.  Many  times  that  day  I  threw  down  my 
tool  in  despair,  and  was  induced  to  resume  it  only 
by  the  taunts  and  reproaches  of  my  partners,  to 
whom  I  already  felt  I  was  doomed  to  be  a  servant 
if  not  a  slave.  It  was  for  this  that  they  had  con- 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  25 

Bested  to  the  so-called  partnership :  they  were  vir- 
tually my  masters  and  my  tyrants. 

And  it  was  for  this  that  I  had  neglected  my  busi- 
ness, discarded  domestic  enjoyments,  abandoned  my 
home  and  deserted  poor  Grace  and  our  little  ones 
— to  toil  under  task-masters  who  would,  as  I  fore- 
saw, exact  from  me  double  exertion  and  rob  me  of 
my  fair  proportion  of  gain !  They  were  stronger 
than  I,  and  how  should  I  resist  them  where  might 
gave  right,  where  law  and  justice  might  be  set  at 
defiance  almost  with  impunity,  and  where  all  around 
me  were  too  busily  and  selfishly  engaged  in  the 
restless  struggle  for  gold  to  heed  the  injustice  and 
cruelty  which  passed  before  their  eyes? 

It  was  my  just  meed  ;  I  had  deserved  it  all.  Yet 
even  then,  while  I  was  reaping  the  first  fruits  of 
my  own  doings  in  the  sufferings  I  endured  and  the 
disappointments  I  had  experienced,  I  did  not  regret 
those  doings. 

Days,  weeks,  and  months  passed  away,  and  I  was 
almost  as  poor  as  when  I  commenced  the  exhaust- 
ing labours — poorer  than  when  I  landed  on  the 
shores  of  Australia.  My  partners,  who,  under  pre- 
tence of  being  practiced  hands  at  the  operation, 
drew  up,  conveyed  away  and  washed  in  the  stream 
the  soil  and  grit  which  I  laboured  to  loosen  from 


26  RICHES  WITHOUT   WINGS. 

its  bed  far  below  the  surface  of  the  ground,  con- 
stantly spoke  of  our  want  of  success,  while  they 
divided  every  evening  the  scanty  proceeds  of  our 
day's  exertion.  Yet  they  combatted  my  proposal 
to  try  another  spot,  and  required  me  every  morning 
to  descend  to  my  hateful  labour.  Then  I  began  to 
suspect  that  they  were  playing  me  false,  and  at 
length  suspicion  ripened  into  certainty. 

Timidly  I  accused  them  of  their  treachery,  and 
they  angrily  rebutted  the  charge.  I  persisted  more 
boldly,  and  they  fell  upon  me  with  savage  blows, 
and  soon  laid  me  senseless  in  our  wretched  hut. 
When  I  recovered  I  found  myself  alone,  cruelly 
wounded  and  very  faint.  When  morning  came  it 
was  plain  that  I  had  been  again  robbed  of  the  small 
portion  of  gold  I  had  saved,  and  that  my  partners 
had  fled. 

I  know  now  that  they  had  gathered  a  rich  har- 
vest by  my  labour,  and  that  they  had  sought  and 
invited  the  quarrel  with  me  when  our  (or  rather 
my)  deep  digging  had  become  unproductive.  Thus 
had  my  hopes  been  once  more  blighted,  and  the 
poverty  from  which  I  had  striven  to  escape  pursued 
me  as  an  armed  man.  Yet  I  was  not  sorry  that  I 
had  sinned. 

While  bemoaning  the  ruggedness  of  my  lot  and 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  27 

the  wretchedness  I  had  brought  on  myself,  a  letter 
reached  me  from  my  poor  Grace.  I  had  written 
to  her  from  Melbourne,  and  her  answer  had  found 
me  out  at  the diggings. 

Poor,  poor  Grace ! 

How  many  times  since  then  have  I  thought  of 
the  words,  the  true  words — oh  how  true ! — "  None 
of  us  liveth  to  himself."  The  wrong  I  have  done 
had  not  in  its  consequences  fallen  on  me  alone: 
there  were  other  and  greater  sufferers,  though  inno- 
cent of  my  guilt. 

She  did  not  upbraid  me — my  patient,  all-endu- 
ring wife.  She  made  no  pretence  of  forgiving  me : 
her  letter  did  not  speak  of  forgiveness,  for  that 
would  have  been  reproachful.  Thus  I  know  she 
argued.  But  she  wrote  hopefully  of  the  time  when 
we  should  meet  again — not  rich,  however ;  no,  not 
rich — Grace  had  no  faith  in  my  dreams  of  wealth — 
but  she  hoped  that  God  would  preserve  me,  and 
keep  me  from  evil — from  all  evil,  and  take  me 
back  again  to  her  safely ;  and  if  in  poverty — well, 
never  mind  poverty,  so  that  we  might  struggle 
against  it  together,  in  faith  and  love  and  patience 
and  resignation — yes,  in  resignation. 

She  was  thankful,  Grace  said,  that  I  had  been 
undeceived  about  Wilfred  Raikes ;  and  she  looked 


28  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

upon  it  as  a  token  for  good  that  my  eyes  had  been 
opened. 

There  was  much  like  this  in  her  letter — so  mild, 
kind  and  gentle ;  just  as  her  words,  and  actions  too,, 
had  always  been. 

Then  there  was  a  postscript : 

"I  did  not  mean  to  tell  you  when  I  began  to 
write,  dear  Mark,  but  perhaps  it  is  right  you 
should  know,  that  we  are  not  in  our  old  home 
now."  I  cannot  go  on  with  the  quotation  from 
poor  Grace's  letter.  Very  lightly  indeed  did  she 
touch  upon  her  troubles,  but  it  was  too  plain  that 
she  was  plunged  into  poverty  and  distress.  Our 
landlord  had  distrained  for  rent,  and  she  and  our 
children  had  been  without  a  home — were  still 
without  a  home,  unless  a  single  room  in  a  tenant's 
cottage  could  be  called  home.  Worse  than  this, 
poor  Grace's  friends,  who  I  thought  would  help 
her  after  I  left,  looked  coldly  upon  her,  blamed  her 
and  refused  to  render  her  any  assistance.  Worse 
still,  there  were  some,  as  I  have  hinted,  who 
charged  her  with  having  been  privy  to  my  base 
desertion,  and,  indeed,  of  having  planned  it  with 
me. 

All  this  I  gathered  from  the  few  words  in 
Grace's  postscript;  and  then  for  the  first  time  did 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  29 

remorse  fasten  upon  ray  soul.  I  cast  myself  on 
the  ground  passionately  and  groaned  in  sore  dis- 
tress. There  was  poor  Grace,  with  our  little  ones, 
thousands,  thousands  of  miles  away,  suffering  all 
these  indignities  and  wrongs,  and  I  the  cause  !  I, 
who  had  no  power  to  help,  though  she  were 
perishing ! 

Header,  I  have  said  remorse,  but  remorse  is  not 
repentance. 


CHAPTER    III. 

FROM  this  time  I  laboured  alone  and  avoided 
all  society,  because  I  distrusted  all  around  me. 
For  many  weeks  I  obtained  a  bare  sustenance,  and 
my  strength  was  fast  failing.  Still,  my  determina- 
tion was  undiminished :  I  would  have  gold  or  die 
in  the  attempt  to  obtain  it. 

Morning  after  morning,  then,  I  hastened  to  my 
weary,  solitary  labour,  and  night  after  night  I 
returned  to  my  hut  faint  and  disappointed.  I  was 
not  alone  in  this.  Of  the  thousands  around  me, 
the  greater  number,  probably,  would  have  been 
richer — with  equal  application  and  earnestness — at 
the  ordinary  avocations  they  had  abandoned. 
Nevertheless,  gold  to  a  large  amount  was  found 


30  ETCHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

daily.  All  found  some;  a  few,  who  were  called 
lucky  and  fortunate,  came  to  rich  deposits  of  the 
precious  metal  and  obtained  it  in  large  quantities, 
and  every  digger  hoped  to  meet,  some  day,  with 
equal  or  greater  success,  and  to  return  home 
enriched  and  envied. 

This  was  my  hope,  and  I  gave  myself  no  respite 
from  my  labour,  except  that  Sunday  was  observed, 

even  in  the  mixed  community  at  the diggings, 

as  a  day  of  rest. 

To  some  it  was  more  than  this.  Among  the 
multitudes  who  had  thus  been  strangely  brought 
together  were  some  who  remembered  that  they  had 
souls.  All  were  not  ungodly.  A  large  tent  had 
been  raised,  too,  as  a  place  of  worship — a  taber- 
nacle in  that  wilderness — in  which  public  services 
were  conducted  and  the  gospel  of  Christ  was 
preached. 

I  knew  but  little  of  this,  however.  I  avoided 
the  preaching  tent,  and  shunned  intercourse  with 
the  ministers  of  religion  and  the  distributors  of 
Bibles  and  tracts  who  had  found  their  way  to  the 
diggings.  I  did  not  want  to  be  reminded  of  my 
obligations.  My  conscience  was  not  at  rest,  and  I 
dreaded  lest  it  should  be  aroused  from  its  uneasy 
slumber.  So  I  passed  my  Sundays  partly  in 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  31 

bodily  repose,  and  partly  in  wandering  without  an 
aim  through  the  encampment. 

One  Sunday  evening  I  was  thus  wandering 
alone — for  I  would  have  no  companionship — and 
had  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  encampment 
when,  just  after  passing  a  tent,  I  heard  my  name 
faintly  uttered. 

I  turned  suddenly.  The  tent  was  thrown  open, 
for  the  day  had  been  stiflingly  hot,  and  seated  on 
the  ground  just  within  its  entrance  was  a  pale, 
haggard,  emaciated  man,  whom  I  had  much  dif- 
ficulty in  persuading  myself  could  be  Wilfred 
Raikes.  But  it  was  he. 

He  was  alone,  and  at  his  invitation  I  entered 
the  tent  and  seated  myself  by  his  side.  For  a 
time  neither  of  us  spoke,  for  he  seemed  almost 
incapable  of  exertion,  and  I  wished  to  hear  first 
what  he  would  say.  Besides,  I  was  filled  with 
conflicting  feelings — indignation  at  the  wrong  I  had 
suffered  at  his  hands,  and  compassion  for  one  who 
had  been  my  friend,  and  who  was  now  evidently 
drawing  near  to  death. 

At  length  he  spoke.  He  felt  himself  to  be 
dying,  he  said,  and  now  that  we  had  met  he 
should  die  easier  if  I  would  assure  him  of  my  for- 
giveness. 


32  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

I  cannot  tell  how  it  was,  but  my  anger  melted 
away.  I  sat  with  poor  Wilfred  through  that  night, 
and  neglected  my  work  on  several  following  days 
that  I  might  wait  on  him.  He  was  reduced  to  a 
deplorable  state  of  weakness,  and  was  alone.  I 
never  could  learn  from  him  the  history  of  his  life 
since  he  parted  from  me  at  Melbourne,  nor  what 
had  become  of  his  companions.  He  had  little 
breath  left  for  talking. 

Every  day  he  became  weaker  rapidly;  and  a 
young  medical  student,  who  had  found  his  way  to 

the diggings,  and  was  making  a  rich  harvest 

of  fees  there,  declared  that  his  recovery  was  im- 
possible. 

Wilfred  knew  this,  he  said ;  and  I  urged  him  to 
see  a  missionary  who  was  actively  engaged,  almost 
day  and  night,  in  visiting  the  sick  and  dying,  for 
there  was  much  sickness  then  at  the  diggings. 
But  the  dying  man  refused  to  admit  him. 

The  last  day  of  his  life  came.  He  lay  stretched 
on  a  mat  in  his  small  tent  gasping  for  breath,  the 
sun  beating  fiercely  on  the  tent,  and  mosquitoes, 
which  I  vainly  endeavoured  to  drive  aAvay,  swarm- 
ing around  and  tormenting  him  in  his  last 
moments.  Then  he  motioned  to  me  to  search  in  a 
hiding-place  in  his  tent,  and  I  found  a  heavy  bag 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  33 

of  gold  and  a  roll  of  bank-notes.  I  did  not  know 
till  then  that  he  was  not  as  poor  as  I. 

"  I  have  sold  my  life  for  this,"  he  said  bitterly, 
laying  his  almost  powerless  hand  on  the  wealth, 
"  and  now  it  is  all  over.  I  robbed  you  of  fifteen 
pounds,  Mark ;  take  fifty  and  send  the  rest  home 
— father — mother — mother." 

These  were  his  last  words :  they  gurgled  in  his 
throat :  in  another  moment  his  head  sank,  his  eyes 
Ijecame  fixed  and  glazed,  there  was  a  deep  sigh,  and 
Wilfred  Raikes  was  dead. 

I  combatted  the  temptation  and  I  overcame  it : 
I  can  bless  God  now  that  he  gave  me  strength  to 
resist  and  delivered  me  from  the  fearful  sin.  I 
caused  poor  Wilfred's  grave  to  be  dug,  and  helped 
to  lay  him  in  it.  I  wrote  to  his  parents  and 
remitted  to  them  all  his  money  except  the  fifty 
pounds  he  had  given  me.  I  breathed  more  freely 
when  it  was  gone,  and  then  I  resumed  my  labour. 

I  had  been  strengthened  by  the  short  respite,  and 
from  that  day  I  had  some  glimmerings  of  success. 
A  month  later,  and  I  was  able  to  send  to  poor 
Grace  a  hundred  pounds  as  the  first  fruits  of  my 
exertions. 

And  then  came  another  long  season  of  dis- 
appointment and  hope  deferred,  of  sickness  and 


34  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

weakness.  I  was  no  longer  able  to  continue  work- 
ing, but  God  was  merciful  to  me;  he  spared  my 
life,  while  hundreds  around  were  stricken  down 
with  fever,  never  to  rise  again.  Yes,  my  life  was 
spared  at  that  time,  and  I  had  strength  given  me 
to  retrace  my  steps  to  Melbourne.  I  was  not  abso- 
lutely destitute,  and  I  husbanded  my  resources,  for 
I  determined  that  I  would  not  give  up  the  pursuit 
of  riches.  I  might  have  obtained  employment  at 
Melbourne,  but  the  spirit  of  chance  gain-getting 
was  strong  upon  me,  and  I  had  no  mind  for  labour 
which  promised  only  a  moderate  reward.  So, 
when  my  strength  was  recruited,  I  returned  to  the 

diggings. 

A  few  months  afterward  I  had  another  letter 
from  Grace.  I  had  been  absent  now  two  years, 
and  I  was  almost  as  far  as  ever  from  realizing  my 
feverish  dreams.  She  implored  me  to  return.  She 
had  been  ill,  our  children  had  been  ill,  and  one 
of  them  had  been  taken  from  her.  But  she  could 
bless  God  for  this.  Was  it  not  in  his  infinite 
mercy  that  he  had  taken  away  the  suffering  child 
from  the  evil  that  was  in  the  world?  She  felt 
this,  and  she  hoped  she  was  able  to  say  from  her 
heart,  "  The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken 
away;  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord  !" 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  35 

I  could  not  say  this.  The  last  time  I  had  seen 
the  lost  one — our  little  Grace — it  was  when  she  ran 
after  me  and  cried  out,  "  You  did  not  kiss  me,  fa- 
ther !"  putting  up  her  little  face  to  mine.  I  groaned 
aloud.  The  remembrance  of  that  kiss  had  always 
haunted  me,  and  now,  now,  I  should  never  again 
see  the  child ! 

Grace's  letter  went  on  to  thank  me  for  the  mo- 
ney I  had  sent  her.  It  had  reached  her  when  she 
was  in  sore  trouble,  and  it  had  given  her  relief. 
Since  then  God  had  raised  up  friends  for  her.  The 
father  of  Wilfred  Raikes  had  been  very  kind  ;  she 
had  now  a  comfortable  home,  and  was  able  to  pro- 
vide for  herself  and  our  remaining  children.  She 
wanted  nothing  more  than  that  I  should  return. 
"  Dear  Mark — dear,  dear  husband,  forget  the  gold ; 
think  only  that  you  have  a  home,  and  a  wife  who 
loves  you  above  all  things  else  in  the  world.  Shall 
we  never  meet  again  ?  And  oh,  Mark,  dear  Mark, 
if  we  are  never  to  meet  in  this  world,  shall  we 
meet  in  another  and  a  better  ?"  So  my  poor  Grace 
wrote. 

My  resolution  was  at  length  shaken.  I  would 
labour  six  months  longer,  and  then,  rich  or  poor, 
I  would  return.  So  I  replied. 

I  redoubled  my  efforts.    Six  months  passed  away, 


36  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

and  I  was  rich,  but  my  health  was  destroyed — I 
was  broken  down  in  constitution  and  aged  beyond 
my  years. 

I  was  again  on  the  way  from  the diggings 

to  Melbourne.  I  had  purchased  a  horse  for  the 
journey,  and  had  sent  on  the  greater  part  of  my 
money  to  one  of  the  banks  there.  I  was  in  my 
miner's  dress,  and  there  was  little  in  my  appearance 
to  tempt  the  violence  of  bush-rangers,  who  I  knew 
at  that  time  infested  the  road. 

It  was  the  dusk  of  evening,  and  I  was  hastening 
on  to  a  tavern  which  I  knew  had  been  raised  by  the 
wayside  in  the  midst  of  the  wide  wild  waste  on 
which  I  had  just  entered,  when  a  shot  was  fired, 
followed  by  another  and  another.  The  first  bullet 
passed  by  me  harmless,  the  second  struck  my  bridle 
arm,  the  third  wounded  the  horse  on  which  I  rode. 
That  bullet  probably  saved  my  life,  for  before  the 
miscreants,  who  doubtless  looked  upon  me  as  their 
prey,  could  rush  upon  me,  my  poor  animal  plunged 
and  reared,  and  then  galloped  off  furiously  through 
the  darkening  gloom. 

I  kept  my  seat,  but  could  neither  guide  nor 
check  my  poor  companion,  who  pushed  madly  on 
into  the  bush.  I  knew  not  how  long  this  flight 
lasted,  for  my  senses  were  reeling ;  and  at  length, 


THE  GOLD-DIQGER.  37 

exhausted  by  the  pain  of  my  wounded  arm,  I  fell. 
Then  all  was  a  blank. 

The  sun  was  risen  when  I  had  recovered  my 
senses,  and  I  found  myself  in  a  wild  and  desolate 
region,  my  head  throbbing  painfully  and  my 
tongue  parched  with  thirst.  Worse  than  this,  my 
poor  horse  was  gone,  and  I  was  utterly  ignorant  of 
the  course  necessary  to  take  to  regain  the  road  to 
Melbourne. 

Hours  pased  away,  and  I  yet  remained  on  the 
same  spot,  helpless  and  despairing.  I  had  heard 
of  travellers  in  these  wilds  who,  having  strayed 
but  a  few  paces  from  the  beaten  track,  had  perished 
with  hunger  and  thirst  after  days  of  wandering 
in  which  they  were  unable  to  find  the  road  they 
had  lost.  I  knew  these  tales  to  be  true,  and  now, 
after  all  my  toils  and  struggles,  and  when  I  had  in 
some  measure  attained  the  object  for  which  I  had 
abandoned  home,  wife  and  children,  this  was  to  be 
the  miserable  end  of  all.  I  had  found  gold ;  I  had 
gold  with  me,  gold  in  Melbourne,  and  I  was  to 
lie  there,  to  die  unheeded,  to  rot  in  the  wilderness 
till  my  bleached  bones  should  some  day  arrest  the 
curiosity  of  some  explorer,  who  would  speculate  on 
my  history  and  pass  on. 

Rain  began  to  fall — first  a  few  drops,  then  a  slight 


38  RICHES  WITHOUT   WINGS. 

shower,  then  a  heavy  continuous  storm.  How  did 
I  revel  in  that  merciful,  gracious  rain !  small  riv- 
ulets began  to  flow,  and  with  my  uninjured  hand  I 
dug  a  hole  in  the  ground,  and  lay  down  to  take 
long  and  deep  draughts  of  the  muddy  but  precious 
water  which  soon  filled  it.  I  renewed  my  draughts 
again  and  again,  and  rose  refreshed  and  strength- 
ened. 

"  When  the  poor  and  needy  seek  water  and  there 
is  none,  and  their  tongue  faileth  for  thirst,  I  the 
Lord  will  hear  them."  I  had  not  opened  a  Bible 
for  months,  scarcely  since  leaving  home,  but  I 
remembered  these  words ;  I  knew  they  were  some- 
where in  the  Bible. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

I  AM  penning  these  lines  in  Melbourne,  but 
while  I  write  I  have  the  welcome  intelligence  that 
the  ship  will  sail  to-morrow.  I  must  hurry  on 
board.  All  my  preparations  are  soon  made.  I 
have  but  little  luggage  to  pack,  and  no  friends  to 
regret  my  departure.  My  landlord  scowls  on  me ; 
perhaps  he  thinks  I  ought  to  have  made  him  my 
heir  and  executor,  and  then  died ;  but  to-morrow  I 
shall  be  beyond  his  reach. 


THE   GOLD-DIGGER.  39 

And  I  am  going  home — toward  home :  shall  I 
ever  reach  it?  I  ask  myself  this  question,  oh  how 
often !  I  dare  not  answer  it ;  for — if  I  have 
strength  I  will  finish  my  story  while  on  my  voyage 
home. 

I  have  been  a  month  out  at  sea. 

God  has  been  very  merciful  to  me :  let  me  ac- 
knowledge his  goodness.  He  has  not  dealt  with 
me  according  to  my  sins,  nor  rewarded  me  accord- 
ing to  my  iniquities. 

When  I  began  to  set  down  some  of  my  adven- 
tures I  was  in  a  troubled  state  of  mind,  full  of 
dread  and  anxiously  looking  forward  to  the  day  of 
embarkation  with  nervous  impatience,  longing  to 
hurry  toward  home,  though  I  should  never  reach 
it.  From  that  dread  I  have  been  delivered,  and  I 
have  been  permitted  to  commence  my  voyage :  the 
distance  is  shortened — every  day  takes  me  nearer 
home.  That  I  have  not  long  to  live  is  almost  cer- 
tain ;  but  if  God  should  so  far  answer  my  prayers 
as  to  spare  me  a  little  while  longer  for  her  sake 
and  theirs — for  poor  Grace's  and  our  children's — I 
shall  think  then  that  my  work  will  be  done. 

My  prayers !  I  thank  God  that  I  can  pray  now. 
In  all  the  troubles  I  passed  through  I  never  dared 


40  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS, 

or  wished  to  lift  up  my  soul  to  God ;  but  I  can 
pray  now. 

I  was  not  cut  off  in  hardened  impenitence  and 
rebellion.  I  have  seen  the  error  of  my  ways.  Let 
me  be  humbled  when  I  think  of  my  follies  and  my 
sins,  and  grateful  when  I  think  of  the  pardon 
offered  in  the  gospel  for  the  greatest  of  sinners. 

Yes,  I  can  pray  now.  "  When  I  kept  silence  " 
— I  think  I  can  use  the  language  of  the  thirty- 
second  Psalm  without  presumption  or  hypocrisy — 
"  when  I  kept  silence  my  bones  Avaxed  old  through 
my  roaring  all  the  day  long.  For  day  and  night 
thy  hand  was  heavy  upon  me :  my  moisture  was 
turned  into  the  drought  of  summer.  I  acknow- 
ledged my  sin  unto  thee,  and  mine  iniquity  have  I 
not  hid.  I  said,  I  will  confess  my  transgressions 
unto  the  Lord ;  and  thou  forgavest  the  iniquity  of 
my  sin." 

Yet,  while  I  thankfully  acknowledge  this,  let  me 
not  forget  that  I  have  sinned,  and  that  the  con- 
sequences of  my  guilt  cling  to  me.  I  cannot 
undo  what  has  been  done — cannot  call  back,  as 
though  it  had  not  been,  the  misery  I  have  in- 
flicted on  wife  and  children — cannot  bring  back 
health  and  strength  to  my  wasted  and  perishing 
body.  I  think  often  of  these  words,  "  Thou  wast 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  41 

a  God  that  forgavest  them,  though  thou  tookest 
vengeance  of  their  inventions."  My  inventions 
have  yielded  to  me  sorrow,  pain  and  death. 

Three  days  I  wandered  in  the  Australian  bush, 
striving  vainly  to  find  the  beaten  track  I  had  left. 
The  wilderness  was  pathless,  and  the  only  sounds  I 
heard  were  the  screams  of  parrots,  intermingled 
with  the  mocking  tones  of  the  laughing  jackass.* 
My  wounded  arm  became  increasingly  inflamed 
and  painful,  and  augmented  weakness  crept  upon 
me. 

Mercifully  the  rain  which  had  fallen  on  the  first 
day  of  my  wanderings  had  quenched  my  first  burn- 
ing thirst  and  filled  numerous  mud-holes  in  the 
bush,  which  afterward  scantily  supplied  my  wants ; 
but  for  this  I  must  have  perished.  I  had  a  small 
bag  of  provisions  with  me,  and  this  for  two  days 
appeased,  if  not  satisfied,  my  hunger.  But  on  the 
morning  of  the  third  day  the  last  morsel  of  damper 
was  consumed,  and  a  sullen  spirit  of  defiance  min- 
gled with  my  anticipations  of  lingering  death  by 
starvation  there  in  the  untenanted  wilderness. 

The  sun  was  sinking  low  in  the  heavens.  I  had 
been  seated  since  noon  on  a  heap  of  withered  herb- 

*  A  well-known  bird  in  Australia,  so  called  because  of  the 
peculiarity  of  its  note. 


42  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

age,  when  a  bird  alighted  on  a  tree  not  many  yards 
distant,  and  gave  promise  of  another  meal  if  I 
could  but  obtain  it.  I  had  with  me  a  revolver 
pistol,  which  I  had  for  a  long  time  carried  for  self- 
defence.  It  might  now  prolong  life  a  few  hours, 
and  life  is  precious  even  to  the  miserable. 

I  drew  the  pistol  from  its  resting-place  and  fired 
at  the  bird.  It  was  a  vain  attempt ;  the  bird  rose 
with  a  shrill  scream  and  flew  away  unhurt.  An- 
grily and  despairingly  I  threw  the  weapon  on  the 
ground  and  sunk  my  head  upon  my  knees. 

But  not  for  long.  Suddenly  I  started  to  my  feet 
in  a  conflict  of  emotions,  for  faintly,  and  as  though 
from  a  far-off  spot,  I  heard,  or  fancied  I  heard,  the 
clear  tone  of  a  human  voice,  in  the  prolonged 
"  coo-eh  "  of  the  Australian  bush  cry. 

I  could  not  answer,  for  my  voice  had  almost  lost 
its  power,  but  I  snatched  the  pistol  from  the 
ground,  discharged  another  of  its  barrels,  and  an- 
other and  another,  and  then  again  I  listened. 
Again  the  shout  came,  but  nearer  this  time,  and 
again  yet  nearer.  The  excitement  of  hope  was 
too  mighty  for  me;  I  could  bear  no  more — I 
swooned. 

I  have  an  indistinct  remembrance  of  being  gently 
raised  from  the  ground ;  of  a  strong,  wiry-framed 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  43 

man  supporting  me  on  his  knee  and  pouring  some 
liquid  into  my  mouth,  after  sprinkling  my  face 
with  water ;  of  being  lifted  by  him  on  to  the  sad- 
dle of  a  horse,  where  he  held  me  with  one  hand 
while  he  guided  the  animal  with  the  other;  and  of 
thus  traversing  the  bush  for  two  or  three  miles,  or 
perhaps  farther. 

I  remember,  too,  in  an  uncertain  way,  being  as- 
sisted to  dismount  by  my  preserver  and  conductor ; 
but  after  this  I  recollect  nothing  more  until  I  found 
myself  on  a  couch,  my  wounded  arm  dressed  and 
bound  up,  and  heard  the  sound  of  voices  in  the 
near  neighbourhood  of  the  humble  room  in  which 
I  lay. 

And  then,  when  consciousness  had  returned  and 
my  preserver  made  his  appearance,  I  learned  that  I 
had  strayed  far  from  the  road  I  had  lost,  and  that 
he  was  a  stock-keeper  at  a  cattle-station.  He  had 
heard  the  report  of  my  pistol,  and  I  had  thus  been 
rescued  from  a  lingering  death  by  starvation  in  the 
bush. 

I  will  not  lengthen  this  part  of  my  history.  I 
was  very  ill ;  fever  had  taken  hold  upon  me,  and 
my  hospitable  host  and  his  hut-keeper  could  do 
little  to  alleviate  my  sufferings.  Happily,  their 
employer's  home  farm  was  not  many  miles  distant, 


44  RICHES   WlTHOLf  WIXGS. 

and  thither,  after  many  days  of  pain  and  weari- 
ness, I  was  removed. 

"  And  you  have  passed  through  all  these  trials, 
and  have  been  once  and  again  delivered  from  dan- 
ger and  from  death,  and  have  met  with  some  of  the 
success  for  which  you  sacrificed  so  much,  and  yet, 
amidst  it  all,  your  heart  has  been  shut  against  God  ! 
Have  you  no  gratitude  ?" 

I  cannot  describe  the  anxious  solicitude  with 
which  these  words  were  spoken,  and  the  gently 
reproving  way  in  which  that  question  was  asked. 
Let  me  endeavour  to  recall  the  scene  and  the 
occasion. 

I  was  seated  on  a  bench  beneath  the  overhang- 
ing roof  of  a  small  piazza  which  ran  along  the 
front  of  a  log  farm-house.  The  bush  around  had 
been  partially  cleared,  but  at  no  great  distance  was 
nature  in  its  original  wildness :  a  narrow  stream  or 
creek  was  visible  in  the  valley  below,  and  the  water 
glistened  in  the  rays  of  the  afternoon  sunshine.  I 
was  in  extreme  weakness,  but  fever  had  partially 
left  me,  and  for  the  first  time  after  many  weeks 
of  wearisome  tossing  on  a  sick  bed  I  had  resumed 
my  garments  and  tottered  into  the  open  air. 

Beside  me  was  my  hostess  and  kind  nurse,  the 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  45 

farmer's  wife,  and  near  her  was  her  youngest 
child,  the  very  image,  as  I  fondly  yet  painfully 
imagined,  of  my  lost  little  Grace. 

I  had  been  speaking  of  this  loss,  of  my  home  in 
England,  of  my  wife.  Step  by  step  I  had,  for  the 
first  time,  been  induced  to  break  my  sullen  silence, 
and  my  history  was  told  to  a  sympathizing  listener. 

She  was  a  Christian.  Her  husband  was  a  Chris- 
tian. In  emigrating  to  the  Australian  bush  two 
or  three  years  before  they  had  not  left  religion 
behind  them.  They  feared  and  loved  and  served 
God  in  the  wilderness.  Their  name — it  matters 
not  their  name,  nor  need  I  further  give  their  his- 
tory; it  had  been  one  of  much  sorrow,  but  they 
had  faith  in  God,  and  so  it  was  one  of  many  blessed 
alleviations. 

"  Have  you  no  gratitude  ?"  she  asked. 

"Anil  not  grateful  to  you — to  your  husband  ?" 
I  asked.  "  Oh  do  not  say  that  I  am  ungrateful." 

"  I  did  not  mean  that,"  she  replied  ;  "  but  what 
matters  that  you  are  grateful  to  a  fellow-creature 
for  a  few  poor  kindnesses  which  may  have  been 
shown,  when  you  are  rebellious  against  the  God  of 
all  your  mercies  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  am  rebellious,"  I  said. 

"Are  you  not  rebellious?"  she  asked.     "Does 


46  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

not  your  tone  and  manner,  and  all  that  you  have 
told  me,  prove  that  you  are?  Have  you  bowed 
before  God  in  resignation  to  his  will,  in  thank- 
fulness for  his  having  spared  you,  and  given  you 
some  of  your  heart's  desire,  in  penitence  for  your 
sins?  Are  you  willing  now  to  give  up  every- 
thing to  Him — your  hard-earned  gold,  the  hope 
of  seeing  wife  and  children,  life  itself — if  it  be  his 
will?  And  is  not  this  rebellion?  Do  you  not 
murmur  against  him  in  your  soul  that  he  has  taken 
to  himself  the  little  one  of  whom  you  have  been 
speaking?  And  is  this  gratitude?" 

Again,  I  say,  I  cannot  describe  how  kindly  and 
gently  and  affectionately,  yet  how  faithfully,  the 
Christian  woman  said  this.  I  was  silent,  for  I 
felt  her  reproofs  were  deserved. 

"  And  is  it  not,  above  all,  rebellious  and  ungrate- 
ful," she  continued,  "that  while,  in  addition  to  all 
besides,  God  has  given  the  best  of  all  his  gifts — 
his  dear  Son  as  a  Saviour — you  turn  away  from 
the  words  of  eternal  life  ?  will  not  come  to  him  that 
you  may  have  life?  will  not  believe  in  him?  will 
not  even  think  of  his  messages  of  mercy  and 
love?" 

Still  I  was  silent.  How  was  I  to  reply  to  such 
appeals  ? 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  47 

"Think  how  ill  you  are  now,"  continued  my 
gentle  reprover ;  "  how  unlikely  that  you  will  re- 
gain health  and  strength ;  how  near  you  may  be  to 
eternity:  think  what  will  the  gold  you  have 
gathered  avail  you  when  you  are  on  a  bed  of 
death  ;  and  yet  you  will  not  be  reconciled  to  God  ; 
for  are  you  not  at  enmity  against  him  ?" 

"If  God  is  my  enemy  I  cannot  help  it,"  I 
muttered. 

"  But  God  is  not  your  enemy,  my  poor  friend," 
she  replied,  eagerly.  "You  may  be  his,  and  he 
not  yours :  and  it  was  when  we  \vere  enemies  that 
Christ  died  for  us.  This  is  the  way  in  which  God 
shows  and  commends  his  love  to  sinners,  such  as 
you  and  I;  and  yet  you  refuse  his  love.  Will 
nothing  move  you?"  and  the  kind  woman  rose 
and  left  me. 

What  a  monster  I  seemed  while  this  kind  and 
wise  Christian  woman  was  speaking,  yet  not  so  un- 
grateful and  rebellious  as  I  have  since  felt,  and  as 
I  now  feel  myself  to  have  been.  My  past  life  rose 
in  review — my  outward  and  manifest  sinfulness 
and  my  secret  sins.  I  was  alarmed  too ;  did  my 
hostess  mean  what  she  said  when  she  spoke  of  my 
nearness  to  death  and  the  improbability  of  recov- 
ery? or  had  she  said  that  merely  to  alarm  me? 


48  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

This  could  not  be,  for  she  was  truthfulness  itself. 
Was  I  then  so  near  dying?  Faintness  came  over 
me  and  agony  of  soul. 

My  head  was  buried  in  my  hands  and  my 
elbows  were  resting  on  my  knees,  when  I  felt  a 
gentle,  hesitating  touch  which  made  me  start.  I 
looked  round,  and  by  my  side  stood  the  little  girl, 
Margaret,  the  daughter  of  my  hostess,  who  had 
reminded  me  so  painfully  of  my  little  Grace.  She 
looked  up  wistfully  and  anxiously  into  my  face, 
just  as  Grace  had  looked  when  she  came  running 
after  me  and  crying,  "  You  did  not  kiss  me,  father." 
The  illusion  was  strong  upon  me  then,  and  I  put 
my  arm  round  the  child's  neck  and  kissed  her  fair 
forehead. 

Margaret  drew  herself  away  half  frightened, 
and  then  I  perceived  that  in  one  hand  she  held  a 
small  pocket  Bible,  open. 

"  Mother  wants  you  to  look  at  this,"  she  whis- 
pered, and  she  laid  her  finger  on  a  verse  which 
had  a  fresh  broad  pencil  mark  placed  against  it  in 
the  margin.  And  then  she  stole  away  timidly, 
leaving  the  Bible  on  my  knee. 

I  glanced  at  the  verse.  I  read  it  again  and 
again  :  "And  therefore  will  the  Lord  wait,  that  he 
may  be  gracious  unto  you ;  and  therefore  will  he  be 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  49 

exalted,  that  he  may  have  mercy  upon  you^  for 
the  Lord  is  a  God  of  judgment :  blessed  are  all 
they  that  wait  for  him." 

I  carried  the  Bible  with  me  into  my  little  room 
and  shut  myself  in. 

I  remained  a  few  more  weeks  at  this  home  sta- 
tion. I  thank  God  that  this  resting-place  was 
granted  me  in  the  wilderness,  and  that  he  inclined 
my  heart  to  yield  to  the  influence  of  Christian 
love  and  faithfulness.  Let  me  never  forget  the 
deep  agony  of  soul  through  which  I  passed  when 
all  around  me  seemed  sinking,  vanishing,  and  I 
left  alone  to  endure  the  just  anger  of  an  offended 
God — when  my  iniquities  seemed  as  though  set 
before  him,  and  my  secret  sins  in  the  light  of  his 
countenance.  And  oh  may  I  never  forget  the 
ecstasy  of  gladness  when  the  first  whispers  of 
hope  stole  in  upon  me  in  the  embracing  of  that 
faithful  saying,  that  "  Christ  Jesus  came  into  the 
world  to  save  sinners" — sinners — even  the  chief  of 
sinners. 

They  thought  me  dying.  Consumption  had 
taken  hold  of  me.  They  told  me  so.  Would  I 
not  return  home  while  yet  I  might  be  able? 

I    tore   myself   away — arrived    at    Melbourne, 

settled  my  affairs  at  the  bank,  sought   lodgings. 
4 


50  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

I  will  not  dwell  upon  this.  Darkness  again  fell 
upon  me.  Those  secret  sins — those  secret  sins ! 
and  the  base  desertion  of  my  poor  wife.  What 
fruit  had  I  then  in  those  things  whereof  I  was 
ashamed  ?  The  wages  of  sin — death ;  but  the  gift 
of  God,  eternal  life  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 
If  it  had  not  been  for  this  I  must  have  perished  in 
despair,  but  God  has  again  lifted  up  upon  me  the 
light  of  his  countenance.  I  will  bless  him  as  long 
as  I  live. 

Home  !  home !  in  two  months. 

There  was  a  small  cottage  in  a  quiet  valley  in 
one  of  the  midland  counties  of  England.  There 
was  a  woman,  yet  young,  but  with  traces  of  care 
aud  sorrow  on  her  otherwise  placid  cheeks  and 
brow.  There  were  two  children,  the  younger  four 
years  old.  It  was  evening,  a  stormy  evening  in 
spring  (spring  in  England,  autumn  in  Australia), 
and  a  fire  blazed  cheerily  on  the  hearth. 

There  was  a  gentle  opening  of  the  cottage-door ; 
a  shriek,  half  of  terror  and  half  of  joy;  a  start- 
ing from  the  seat;  a  wild  delirium  of  gladncas ; 
then  a  sudden  revulsion. 

"  Dear,  dear  Mark ! — but  altered :  oh  how 
altered !" 

Altered :  oh  how  altered !     The  gold-digger  had 


THE  GOLD-DIGGER.  51 

reached  his  home,  to  linger  a  few  months,  and  then 
to  die — a  humble,  contrite  man — the  dream  of 
making  haste  to  be  rich,  which  had  deluded 
him,  as  it  has  done  so  many  others,  dissipated 
for  ever. 


THE  BELIEVING  TRADESMAN/ 


"Behold,  the  Lord's  hand  is  not  shortened,  that  it  cannot 
Bav«|  neither  his  ear  heavy,  that  it  cannot  hear." — ISAIAH 
lix.  1. 

"  The  effectual  fervent  prayer  of  a  righteous  man  availeth 
much." — JAMES  v.  16. 

HERE  is  a  sad  degree  of  infidelity  in  the 
philosophical  enlightenment  and  logical  de- 
ductions of  which  the  nineteenth  century  is 
so  proud;  and  the  contemptuous  rejection 
of  all  providential  interposition  by  a  dogmatic  re- 
*  The  following  narrative  will  probably  appear  to  most  of 
our  readers  so  extraordinary  that  nothing  short  of  the  clearest 
proofs  of  its  authenticity  will  render  it  credible.  The  greatest 
pains  have  been  taken  to  sift  the  facts,  and  there  is  no  doubt 
of  the  strict  accuracy  of  all  the  remarkable  incidents  detailed. 
The  narrative  has  already  been  published  on  the  ppot  where 
the  events  happened,  where  it  is  accepted  as  a  truthful  record 
of  the  wonderful  interposition  of  God  on  behalf  of  his  believ- 
ing servant.  It  is  an  eloquent  lesson  to  us  on  the  manner  in 
which  the  Hearer  of  prayer  still  honours  and  rewards  strong 
faith  in  his  promises  and  providence. 
52 


THE  BELIEVING  TRADESMAN.  53 

iteration  of  the  cry  that  "  the  age  of  miracles  is 
past"  which  comes  so  readily  to  the  lip  of  the 
worldling  would  go  far  to  establish  the  "fool's" 
maxim  that  "  there  is  no  God,"  since  it  would  de- 
prive him  of  the  divine  prerogative  of  ruling  the 
world  he  hath  made.  That  the  age  of  such  mira- 
cles as  were  needful  to  evince  the  unlimited  power 
of  the  divine  Saviour  and  to  authenticate  the  mis- 
sion of  his  ambassadors  is  now  past,  and  hence  that 
the  miracle-mongery  of  Rome  is  to  be  rejected  as 
imposture,  we  fully  accord ;  but  such  admission  in 
no  way  militates  against  the  assumption  that  the 
Supreme  Being  continues  to  direct  the  course  of 
human  events,  "turning"  both  the  hearts  and  the 
circumstances  of  men,  "  as  the  rivers  of  water,  ac- 
cording to  the  counsel  of  his  own  will."  And  by 
parity  of  reasoning,  it  cannot  invalidate  the  record 
of  many  an  aid  opportunely  aiforded  at  the  hour 
of  their  utmost  need  to  those  who,  having  "  asked 
in  faith,  believing  that  they  should  receive,"  ob- 
tained such  an  answer  as  forced  them  to  exclaim, 
"This  is  the  Lord's  doing;  it  is  marvellous  in  our 
eyes,"  albeit  the  means  employed  were  not  super- 
natural, and  the  instruments  of  their  deliverance 
were  neither  angels  iior  ravens,  but  men  of  like 
passions  with  themselves. 


54  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

To  such  as  rejoice  to  believe  that  the  God  of  our 
fathers  is  still  to  us,  as  he  was  to  them,  a  prayer- 
hearing  and  a  prayer-answering  God,  the  following 
authentic  history  of  a  truly  remarkable  providen- 
tial interposition  will  prove  faith-invigorating,  and 
may  by  God's  blessing  even  induce  some  hitherto 
careless  child  of  Adam  to  turn  to  Him  who  said, 
"  Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive  that  your  joy  may  be 
full." 

John  Daniel  Loest,  the  subject  of  this  narrative, 
was  born  on  the  28th  of  March,  1759,  of  poor  but 
pious  parents,  who  trained  up  their  children  in  the 
fear  of  the  Lord,  and  took  care  that  they  should 
from  very  early  years  be  instructed  in  the  Scrip- 
tures. Under  the  influence  of  such  training  the 
faith  which  had  dwelt  in  his  progenitors  took  firm 
root  and  bore  fair  fruit  in  Daniel,  who,  as  we  learn 
from  a  short  history  of  his  life  published  in  1855 
by  the  Berlin  Religious  Tract  Society,  was  noted 
even  in  early  youth  for  a  blameless  life  and  unwa- 
vering profession  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus. 

The  Lord  so  prospered  him  in  his  worldly  cir- 
cumstances that  by  steady  industry  he  raised  him- 
self to  rank  with  the  most  respectable  tradesmen  in 
Berlin,  where  he  kept  a  well-frequented  fringe  and 
trimming  shop.  Fervent  in  spirit  and  diligent  in 


THE  BELIEVING   TRADESMAN.  55 

business,  Mr.  Loest  was  also  willing  to  communi- 
cate to  such  as  stood  in  need  of  his  help;  and 
although  neither  injudicious  nor  indiscriminating, 
his  well-known  benevolence  and  peculiar  prompt- 
ness to  do  good  to  the  "household  of  faith"  ren- 
dered him  occasionally  the  prey  of  designing  hypo- 
crites, who  assumed  the  mien  and  language  of  piety 
the  more  surely  to  win  the  good  man's  confidence. 
Yet  he  seems  to  have  been  on  the  whole  a  man  of 
readiness  and  energy,  judging  by  the  following 
anecdote. 

One  day  a  man  whom  Mr.  Loest  knew  to  bear 
a  fair  worldly  character,  but  with  whom  he  had 
previously  held  no  intercourse,  came  to  him  with 
the  urgent  entreaty  to  accommodate  him  with  the 
loan  of  two  hundred  thalers  (thirty  pounds  sterling) 
for  a  short  time,  asserting  that,  his  distress  being 
only  temporary,  he  could  promise  repayment  with 
certainty  within  a  few  days. 

Loest  hesitated.  He  had,  as  it  happened,  the  re- 
quired sum  lying  at  that  moment  in  his  desk,  but 
he  could  not  spare  it  long  from  his  business.  The 
borrower  painted  his  difficulties  in  lively  colours, 
dextrously  using  the  language  not  only  of  an  up- 
right but  of  a  religious  man ;  and  Loest,  who  prob- 
ably remembered  the  admonition,  "Say  not  unto 


56  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINQS. 

thy  neighbour  go  and  come  again,  when  thou  hast 
it  by  thee,"  paid  down  the  desired  sum. 

As  the  borrower  left  the  room,  Loest's  judgment 
rebelled  against  the  award  of  his  feelings,  and  he 
began  to  reproach  himself  with  imprudence  in  con- 
fiding so  considerable  a  sum  to  one  of  whom  per- 
sonally he  knew  so  little.  In  the  same  moment 
his  maid-servant  burst  into  the  room  and  asked, 
"  Master,  what  was  the  business  that  man  had  with 
you  ?" 

Loest  replied  by  another  question,  "  Why  do  you 
ask?" 

"Because,"  said  she,  "I  heard  him  say  as  he 
passed  through  the  lobby,  '  I  am  glad  to  have  got 
it;  hjednay  see  how  he'll  ever  get  it  back  again.'" 

Loest  took  the  hint,  and,  throwing  open  the  win- 
dow, called  out  to  his  debtor,  who  had  just  reached 

the  street,  "Pray,  Mr. ,  come  here  again  just 

for  one  moment." 

Unsuspicious  of  any  sinister  change  (as  he  had 
not  seen  the  servant,  who  was  in  a  dark  closet  off 
the  lobby,  and  consequently  dreamed  not  of  having 
been  overheard),  the  man  complied  with  Loest's 
request,  who,  on  his  re-entering  the  room,  begged 
leave  to  count  over  the  money  again.  The  rouleaux 
were  accordingly  laid  on  the  table,  and  Loest  no 


THE  BELFEVING   TRADESMAN.  57 

sooner  Had  them  fairly  in  his  grasp  than,  looking 
upward,  he  repeated  with  slow  and  distinct  utter- 
ance, "  I  am  glad  to  have  got  it ;  he  may  see  how 
he'll  ever  get  it  back  again." 

Conscience-stricken  and  confounded  by  hearing 
his  own  words  thus  repeated,  without  a  clue  to 
guide  him  as  to  how  they  had  come  to  Loest's 
knowledge,  the  intending  defrauder  shrunk  speech- 
less and  moneyless  from  the  chamber ;  while  Loest, 
after  thanking  God  fervently  for  this  wonderful 
preservation  from  what  would  have  been  to  him  a 
great  loss,  hastened  to  his  most  intimate  Christian 

friend  A to  tell  him  of  this  new  proof  of  the 

Lord's  providential  care. 

In  this  incident  there  was  no  miracle,  .but  as- 
suredly there  was  an  intervention;  and  could  a 
modern  philosopher  have  deprived  Loest  of  this 
conviction,  and  consequently  of  his  grateful  sense 
of  a  divine  benevolence  exerted  in  his  behalf,  he 
would  assuredly,  to  accommodate  the  words  of  the 
great  dramatic  bard,  have  "robbed  him  of  that 
which  not  enriched  him,  but  left  Loest  poor  in- 
deed." 

But  we  must  now  proceed  to  relate  the  still  more 
astonishing  interposition  of  which  Loest  was,  in 
after  life,  privileged  to  be  the  object,  and  of  which 


58  RICHES   WITHOUT   WINGS. 

he  could  never  speak  without  tears  of  gratitude 
and  joy. 

Baron  von  Kottwitz,  then  so  well  known 
throughout  Prussia  as  the  unwearied  and  judicious 
benefactor  of  the  poor  Silesian  handloom  weavers, 
and  indeed  as  the  ready  seconder  of  every  Chris- 
tian undertaking,  called  one  day  on  Mr.  Loest,  say- 
ing that  he  had  been  requested  to  try  to  interest 
him  in  favour  of  a  Christian  lady  of  good  property, 
but  who  was  at  the  moment  thrown  into  great  dis- 
tress and  perplexity  by  an  obstinate  and  wrong- 
headed  creditor,  who  would  assuredly  plunge  her 
in  an  expensive  lawsuit  unless  she  were  enabled 
instantly  to  settle  his  demand.  The  baron  further 

stated  that  Mr.  S ,  a  well-known  attorney-at- 

law,  who  was  well  acquainted  with  all  the  circum- 
stances of  the  case,  had  assured  him  that  there  was 
not  the  smallest  risk  in  becoming  security  for  the 
lady,  whose  temporary  embarrassment  was  merely 
the  result  of  chicane,  so  that  one  or  two  respectable 
signatures  would  suffice  to  rescue  the  victim,  while 
the  money  would  never  be  called  for,  her  own  fund 
being  in  all  likelihood  available  before  the  bond 
could  fall  due. 

Loest  went,  according  to  the  baron's  advice,  to 
Attorney  S ,  whom  he  found  seated  before  a 


THE  BELIEVING  TRADESMAN.  59 

large  open  Bible.  Loest  was  agreeably  surprised 

to  find  Mr.  S so  employed,  for  a  Christian 

lawyer  was  then  to  the  full  as  rare  as  a  Christian 
tradesman.  Mr.  Attorney,  however,  took  pains  to 
convince  his  visitor  that  the  present  was  no  chance 
consultation  of  the  sacred  volume,  of  which  he  pro- 
fessed himself  a  diligent  student.  On  stating  the 
object  of  his  visit,  Loest  was  informed  by  the  at- 
torney that  the  baron's  statements  were  all  perfectly 
correct — that  he  was  himself  personally  acquainted 
with  the  position  of  the  lady's  property — that  there 
was  not  a  shadow  of  risk  in  going  security  for  her 
— and  that  he,  the  attorney,  would  within  a  very 
short  time  discharge  every  demand  against  her  if 
she  were  but  freed  from  this  unreasonably  clamor- 
ous creditor. 

The  solemn  assurances  of  a  Bible-reading  lawyer 
satisfied  every  scruple,  and  Loest  put  down  his 
name  for  six  hundred  thalers,  or  about  ninety 
pounds  sterling. 

Months  elapsed  without  any  further  reference  to 
this  affair,  when  suddenly  Mr.  Loest  was  most  un- 
pleasantly reminded  of  it  by  receiving  an  order  of 
court  to  pay  in  on  the  following  Tuesday  the  six 
hundred  thalers  for  which  he  had  become  security, 
under  penalty  of  execution.  Loest  now  remem- 


60  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

bered  with  keen  self-accusations  the  warning  given 
by  the  wisest  of  men  in  Proverbs  xi.  15.  He  now 
discovered,  though,  alas  !  too  late  to  escape  from  the 
snare,  that  both  the  baron  and  he  had  been  design- 
edly mystified,  and  that  the  estates  of  the  lady  were 
hopelessly  sunk  in  debt;  while  nothing  remained 
for  him  but  to  bring  together  by  hook  or  by  crook 
the  six  hundred  thalers  before  the  following 
Tuesday. 

Now,  our  Christian  friend  had  ever  borne  the 
character  of  a  "  man  diligent  in  his  business,"  and 
as  such  he  was  well  accredited  by  his  fellow-citi- 
zens. Moreover,  his  personal  circumstances  were 
such  as  to  enable  him  to  bear  the  loss  of  six  hun- 
dred thalers,  if  loss  it  should  ultimately  prove. 
But  to  provide  on  the  instant  for  so  unexpected  a 
payment  was  not  easy,  and  the  less  so  as,  unfor- 
tunately, he  had  just  accepted  a  bill  for  three  hun- 
dred thalers,  which  was  to  fall  due  on  the  ensuing 
Saturday.  His  first  thought  in  his  perplexity  was 
to  hurry  off  to  a  rich  friend  (who  had  already 
helped  him  on  in  business  by  the  loan  of  five  hun- 
dred thalers),  hoping  that  he  could  assist  him  out 
of  this  new  dilemma.  On  his  way,  however,  to 
this  friend's  house,  he  stumbled  on  another  ac- 
quaintance, who  had  lent  him  four  hundred  thalers 


THE  BELIEVING  TRADESMAN.  61 

under  a  mere  note  of  hand ;  and  lie  saluted  him 
with  the  news  that  he  must  beg  for  repayment  of 
that  sum  on  the  following  Friday,  as  he  required 
it  to  pay  for  a  parcel  of  goods  of  which  he  had  just 
received  the  invoice,  and  which  would  arrive  that 
day. 

"  You  shall  have  it,"  said  Loest,  as  he  hurried 
on  to  find  the  friend  on  whose  help  he  so  confi- 
dently relied. 

The  friend  is  at  home,  but  before  Loest  can 
speak  his  errand,  he  hears  himself  addressed  with 
the  words :  "  It  is  lucky  you  are  come,  my  friend, 
for  I  was  just  going  to  send  to  you  to  request  you 
will  make  provision  to  pay  me  back  the  five  hun- 
dred thalers  you  owe  me,  for  I  must  needs  have  it 
on  Wednesday  to  pay  off  a  mortgage  on  my  house 
which  has  just  been  called  up." 

"You  shall  have  it,"  replied  Loest  in  a  calm 
voice,  though  his  heart  became  heavier  every  mo- 
ment. 

Suddenly  it  occurred  to  him  that  a  merchant 
with  whom  he  had  been  on  very  intimate  terms, 
and  who  had  recently  died,  was  the  possessor  of  a 
very  large  floating  capital.  If  not  already  dis- 
posed of,  the  widow  might  be  inclined  to  help 
him ;  and  he  immediately  determined  to  ascertain 


62  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINQS. 

how  she  felt  on  the  subject.  But,  alas  !  disappoint- 
ments thickened  upon  him.  Loest  already  owed 
the  deceased  five  hundred  thalers  by  bill,  and  three 
hundred  thalers  for  goods  delivered.*  The  bill 
was  already  expired,  and,  as  often  happens  between 
friends,  had  not  been  renewed ;  and  now,  unluck- 
ily, it,  along  with  all  other  papers  belonging  to  the 
deceased,  had  been  placed  in  the  hands  of  his  trus- 
tees, who  had  no  choice  but  to  act  for  the  family  as 
the  law  directed.  The  consequence  was,  that  soon 
after  Loest  entered  the  room  where  the  widow  was 
seated,  she  handed  him  an  order  from  the  court  of 
trustees,  under  which  he  was  bound  to  pay  up  the 
five  hundred  thalers'  bill  on  Thursday,  ad  depos- 
itum ;  "  and,"  continued  the  lady  before  the  poor 
man  had  time  to  utter  a  word,  "  I  would  earnestly 
entreat  you  to  pay  the  other  three  hundred  thalers 
early  on  Saturday  to  me,  for  there  are  accounts 
constantly  pouring  in  on  me,  and  the  funeral  ex- 
penses." Here  her  voice  faltered ;  and  her  visitor, 

*  That  our  friend  had  so  many  debts  must  not  prejudice  him 
in  the  estimation  of  the  reader.  His  engagements  did  not  ex- 
ceed his  real  property :  in  goods  and  other  bills  he  possessed 
much  more  than  he  owed  ;  but  the  essence  of  trade  in  Prussia 
consisted  in  credit,  so  that  the  honester  and  more  active  the 
trader,  the  more  extensive  his  credit  and  the  more  numerous 
his  creditors  would  be. 


THE  BELIEVING  TRADESMAN.  63 

after  answering  in  a  low  voice,  "  It  shall  be  cared 
for/'  withdrew,  without  having  uttered  one  word 
on  the  business  which  had  taken  him  thither. 

Thus  wave  following  on  wave  oppressed,  but  did 
not  overwhelm,  the  hope  of  this  believer ;  for  the 
higher  they  rose  and  the  louder  they  surged,  the 
more  assured  did  he  feel  that  they  were  among  the 
"  all  things"  appointed  for  his  good ;  and  the  firmer 
grew  his  conviction  that,  end  how  and  when  it 
might,  the  trial  would  be  made,  in  God's  wonder- 
working hand,  to  subserve  the  glory  of  his  great 
name.  Yet  he  was  obliged  to  look  his  position 
calmly  in  the  face.  How  stood  it? 

To  seek  the  loan  of  six  hundred  thalers  had  been 
the  design  with  which  he  that  morning  left  his 
house ;  and  should  he  now  return  to  it  his  engage- 
ments for  the  following  week  must  be  entered  thus : 
six  hundred  thalers  to  be  paid  on  Tuesday,  five 
hundred  on  Wednesday,  five  hundred  on  Thursday, 
four  hundred  on  Friday,  three  hundred  on  Satur- 
day morning  and  three  hundred  on  Saturday  after- 
noon :  in  all,  two  thousand  six  hundred  thalers. 
It  was  already  Saturday,  and  his  purse  contained 
something  under  four  thalers  (twelve  shillings  ster- 
ling) !  What  was  to  be  done  ?  There  was  one 
chance  left,  and  he  resolved,  though  with  a  heavy 


64  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

heart,  to  try  it.  It  was  to  go  to  a  rich  money- 
lender, to  whom  his  circumstances  were  perfectly 
well  known,  and  who,  he  could  not  doubt,  would 
readily  advance  him  a  couple  of  thousand  thalers — 
not  for  friendship  indeed,  but  for  six  or  seven  per 
cent. 

But  even  here  he  was  doomed  to  find  he  had 
reckoned  without  his  host.  Dearly  as  the  usurer 
loved  to  make  money,  there  was  unhappily  some- 
thing he  loved  still  better — namely,  the  indulgence 
of  his  enmity  to  the  Christian  faith.  The  cheerful 
Christianity  and  the  unworldly  industry  of  the 
believing  tradesman  had  long  been  a  thorn  in  the 
side  of  this  bad  man ;  and  it  was  with  a  half  smile 
of  anticipated  triumph  on  his  sinister  features  that 
he  asked,  not  without  a  perceptible  shade  of  irony 
in  his  tone,  as  our  friend  entered,  "  What  can  have 
procured  for  me  the  honour  of  a  visit  from  Mr. 
Daniel  Loest?" 

"I  have  the  prospect  of  having  some  money 

difficulties  in  the  coming  week,  Mr.  N ,"  began 

his  visitor,  "  and — "  But  he  could  get  no  farther. 

"You  in  money  difficulties,  or  any  difficulties, 

Mr.  Loest!"  interrupted  Mr.  N ;  "I  cannot 

believe  it !  It  is  altogether  impossible !  You  are 
at  all  times  and  in  all  places  boasting  that  you 


THE  BELIEVING  TRADESMAN.  65 

have  such  a  rich  and  loving  MASTER  !  why  don't 
you  apply  to  him  now?"  and  the  usurer's  lip 
curled  with  scarcely-concealed  pleasure  at  having 
found  an  opportunity  of  taunting  a  Christian. 

The  random  shaft  had  done  its  mission.  "  You 
are  right,  and  I  am  wrong,"  said  Loest,  in  reply. 
"  I  beg  your  pardon  for  my  unwarrantable  intru- 
sion on  your  time ;"  and  so  saying,  he  turned  and 
went  his  way. 

The  scorner  had  indeed  hit  the  nail  on  the  head, 
and  though  he  meant  not  so,  he  had  been  made  use 
of  to  recall  God's  erring  child  to  a  sense  of  his 
duty.  He  felt  that  God  had  spoken  to  him  even 
by  these  unclean  lips,  and  a  wondrous  light  and 
calm  diffused  themselves  over  his  heart.  With 
cheerful  steps  he  hastened  home.  Arrived  there, 
his  first  act  was  to  throw  himself  on  his  knees  and 
implore  forgiveness  from  his  Saviour  and  his  Helper 
in  many  a  former  trial  for  having  on  this  occasion, 
instead  of  seeking  the  Fountain  of  mercy,  turned 
for  relief  to  a  succession  of  broken  cisterns  which 
could  hold  no  water. 

Strengthened,  refreshed  and  consoled,  he  arose 
from  his  knees.  The  following  Sunday  was  indeed 
a  Sabbath  of  rest  to  his  soul,  in  which,  by  casting 
all  his  burdens  on  the  Lord,  he  enjoyed  "that 


CG  ETCHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

peace  which  the  world  can  neither  give  nor  take 
away."  Disordered  in  body  by  the  severe  mental 
conflicts  of  the  previous  day,  he  felt  wholly  dis- 
abled from  joining  in  the  public  services  of  the 
sanctuary;  but  he  was  truly  "in  the  Spirit"  on 
that  "Lord's  day,"  and  in  soul-communion  with 
God  he  spent  the  hours  of  sacred  rest,  confiding  to 
no  other  ear  the  anxiety  which  had  pressed  on  his 
mind  and  the  desire  which  still  rose  in  his  heart — • 
namely,  to  "render  to  all  their  dues." 

Long  a  widower,  there  was  none  to  whom  as  to 
a  second  self  he  felt  bound  to  communicate  his 
feelings,  and  neither  to  his  aged  sister,  who  kept 
house  for  him,  nor  to  their  equally  aged  and  Chris- 
tian-minded domestic,  did  he  think  it  right  to  con- 
vey any  portion  of  the  uneasiness  he  had  gone 
through.  He  knew  and  felt  assured  that  "the 
Lord  would  provide." 

Cheerfully  he  arose  on  the  Monday  morning,  and 
ere  yet  his  toilette  was  completed  he  noted  with 
great  surprise  that  both  his  sister  and  the  assistant 
seemed,  notwithstanding  the  earliness  of  the  hour, 
to  have  full  as  much  as  they  could  do  in  serving 
customers  and  making  up  parcels,  and  he  a;cord- 
ingly  hastened  into  the  shop  to  give  them  'issiat- 
ince.  And  thus  it  continued  the  wholt  dav ! 


THE  BELIEVING   TRADESMAN.  67 

Never  in  all  his  experience  could  Loest  remember 
such  a  ceaseless  stream  of  customers  as  poured  on 
that  memorable  Monday  into  his  rather  out-of-the- 
way  shop.  Cooking  dinner  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion :  neither  mistress  nor  maid  had  time  for  that. 
Coffee  and  bread,  taken  by  each  in  turn,  served  in- 
stead of  the  accustomed  meal ;  and  still  the  cus- 
tomers came  and  went;  still  three  pairs  of  hands 
were  in  requisition  to  satisfy  their  wants. 

Nor  was  it  for  new  purchases  only  that  money 
came  in.  More  than  one  long-outstanding  account, 
accompanied  by  excuses  for  delayed  payment  and 
assurances  that  it  had  not  been  possible  to  settle  it 
sooner,  enlarged  the  contents  of  the  till ;  and  the 
honest-hearted  debtor  on  whom  this  unwonted 
stream  of  money  flowed  in  was  tempted  every 
minute  to  call  out,  "It  is  the  Lord !" 

At  length  night  came,  when  Loest  and  his  liter- 
ally worn-out  assistants,  after  having  poured  out 
their  hearts  in  thankful  adoration  at  family  prayer, 
sat  down  to  the  first  meal  they  had  that  day  en- 
joyed in  common.  It  was  probably  not  luxurious, 
but  surely  it  was  a  much-relished  one ;  and  when 
it  had  been  quietly  partaken  of,  the  brother  and 
sister  set  themselves  to  count  over  the  money  which 
had  that  day  been  taken.  Each  hundred  thalers 


68  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

was  set  by  itself,  and  the  result  showed  six  hundred 
and  three  thalcrs,  fourteen  silver  grosehcn.  Thus 
the  ninety  pounds  required  for  the  next  day's  pay- 
ment were  provided,  with  ten  shillings  and  eight- 
pence  over,  being  a  somewhat  less  surplus  than 
what  remained  in  hand  on  the  previous  Saturday 
night. 

"  Oh  what  a  wondrous  God  is  ours !"  exclaimed 
Loest,  while  tears  of  grateful  emotion  filled  his 
eyes  (as  they  never  failed  to  do  every  time  that  in 
after  life  he  recounted  this  remarkable  passage  of 
his  Christian  experience) — "  what  a  wondrous  God 
is  ours  !  who,  in  the  government  of  this  great  uni- 
verse, does  not  overlook  my  mean  affairs  nor  for- 
get his  gracious  promise:  'Call  upon  me  in  the 
day  of  trouble,  I  will  deliver  thee/  which  has  this 
day  been  so  remarkably  fulfilled  in  me !  How 
countless  must  be  the  host  of  his  ministering  ser- 
vants, seen  and  unseen,  since  he  can  employ  some 
hundreds  of  them  with  the  commissions,  'Buy  this 
or  that  of  Daniel  Loest  to-day,'  or  '  Pay  him  that 
long-standing  bill,  for  which  I  have  now  given 
thee  the  means.'  Oh  that  I  may  be  enabled 
henceforth  to  glorify  him !" 

Tuesday  witnessed  a  repetition  of  Monday's  con- 
course, and  the  five  hundred  thalers  required  by 


THE  BELIEVING   TRADESMAN.  69 

his  friend  to  pay  off  the  mortgage  on  his  house 
were  ready  on  demand  on  Wednesday.  That  day's 
sale  provided  the  five  hundred  thalers  which  must 
be  paid  on  Thursday  into  the  court  of  trustees; 
and  Thursday's  customers  brought  the  four  hun- 
dred thalers  which  his  friend  had  reclaimed  for 
Friday,  in  order  to  pay  for  his  then-to-be-delivered 
goods ;  and  Friday's  contingent  put  it  in  Loest's 
power  to  pay  the  widow  early  on  Saturday  morn- 
ing the  three  hundred  thalers  she  needed  to  settle 
the  unpostponable  demands  for  funeral  expenses, 
etc.  In  Loest's  eyes  the  most  miraculous  circum- 
stance perhaps  of  this  miraculous  week  was  the 
striking  fact  that,  while  a  daily  supply  commen- 
surate with  the  daily  recurring  need  was  granted, 
there  never  remained  any  greater  surplus  than  that 
with  which  it  commenced,  the  cash  in  hand  varying 
from  three  to  five  dollars. 

On  the  Saturday  morning  at  which  our  relation 
has  now  arrived,  when  the  messenger  departed  with 
the  three  hundred  thalers  for  the  widow,  our  friend 
remained  with  precisely  two  thalers  twenty  silver 
groschen  (six  shillings  and  eightpence  sterling),  the 
smallest  balance  he  had  yet  had ;  and  what  seemed 
more  alarming,  the  rush  to  the  shop  appeared  to  be 
entirely  over ;  for  whereas  during  the  five  days  past 


70  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

he  had  scarcely  had  time  to  draw  his  breath  from 
hurry  and  bustle,  he  was  now  left  in  the  most  un- 
disturbed possession  of  his  time.  Not  a  single 
customer  appeared.  The  wants  of  the  vicinity 
seemed  to  have  come  to  an  end,  for  not  a  child  en- 
tered to  fetch  a  pennyworth  of  thread  nor  a  few 
ells  of  tape,  so  that  the  present  cessation  of  all  de- 
mand was  quite  as  much  out  of  the  accustomed 
shop  routine  as  the  previous  rush  of  custom  had 
been. 

Hour  after  hour  passed,  but  no  occupation  inter- 
fered with  the  boding  leisure  to  which  the  master 
of  that  lately  so  busy  scene  was  now  condemned. 
Three  o'clock  came,  and  still  there  was  but  six 
shillings  and  eightpence  in  the  till,  while  the  anx- 
ious debtor  knew  full  well  that  the  same  clock 
would  not  strike  four  without  the  step  of  the  clerk 
being  heard,  who  ought  then  to  receive  payment 
of  the  three  hundred  thalers  which  would  wind  up 
the  payments  of  that  remarkable  week.  Unbelief 
would  have  said,  "  If  the  Lord  would  make  win- 
dows in  heaven,  might  this  thing  be."  But  Loest 
sat  still  and  in  his  "  patience  possessed  his  soul," 
for  he  knew  the  Lord's  time  was  the  best  time,  and 
he  desired  to  be  found  waiting  at  his  mercy-seat. 
And  yet  this  last  was  a  sore  trial,  for  should  the 


THE  BELIEVING   TRADESMAN.  71 

clerk  be  sent  away  empty-handed,  the  tradesman's 
commercial  character  would  be  essentially  injured, 
his  credit  shaken,  if  not  annihilated;  and,  worse 
than  that,  the  man  Avho  had  endorsed  the  bill  after 
him  must  pay  in  his  stead;  and  Loest  groaned  in 
spirit  as  he  remembered  how  ill  able  that  friendly 
endorser  was  to  bear  more  than  his  own  engage- 
ments. 

We  left  Loest  in  the  crisis  of  a  most  painful  sus- 
pense, watching  the  lapse  of  time  that  was  bring- 
ing nearer  and  nearer  the  hour  that  would  seal  his 
commercial  dishonour.  The  clock  chimed  one 
quarter  past  three ;  then  half  past;  still  was  there 
no  money  in  the  house  nor  prospect  of  any,  for 
every  outstanding  debt  of  any  considerable  amount 
had  come  in  during  the  five  past  days,  and  Loest 
had  full  leisure  to  count  the  fleeting  moments,  each 
one  bringing  nearer  the  appearance  of  his  assuredly 
punctual  creditor.  Yes,  this  was  a  sore  trial,  but 
it  did  not  overwhelm  him;  he  could  still  "pray  to 
the  God  of  heaven."  He  could  still  breathe  forth, 
"  If  this  cup  may  not  pass  away  from  me,  except  I 
drink  it,  thy  will  be  done !" 

Again  the  warning  voice  of  time  was  heard,  in- 
dicating three  quarters  past  three  o'clock,  and  im- 


72  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

mediately  after  a  gentle  tap  was  heard  at  the  door 
of  the  counting-room  to  which  Loest  had  retired. 
In  reply  to  his  "  Come  in,"  appeared  a  little  old 
woman,  who  asked  eagerly,  "Is  Mr.  Loest  within?" 

u  Yes,  my  good  woman,  as  you  see.  What  do 
you  want  with  me?" 

"  Oh,  sir,"  replied  she,  half  in  a  whisper,  "  you 
see  I  live  here  close  by,  quite  alone  in  a  cellar ; 
and  I  have  had  a  few  thalers  paid  to  me,  and  now 
I  want  to  beg  of  you,  sir,  if  you  would  be  so  good 
as  to  keep  them  for  me.  I  have  not  slept  one 
night  since  I  have  had  them ;  it  is  a  great  charge 
for  a  lone  woman  like  me." 

"  Right  willingly  will  I  keep  them  for  you,  and 
pay  interest  too,"  said  Loest. 

"Oh  no,  no;  don't  speak  a  word  of  interest, 
sir !"  cried  the  old  woman ;  "  but  if  you  are  pleased 
to  remain  a  few  minutes  within,  I'll  bring  the 
money  in  a  twinkling." 

"  But  at  all  events  you  must  have  a  receipt,  my 
good  woman  ;  we  are  all  liable  to  die,  you  know," 
said  Loest,  smiling.  "  For  what  sum  shall  I  write 
you  an  acknowledgment  ?" 

"  Oh,  it  is  only  a  trifle  of  three  hundred  thalers, 
sir,"  cried  the  woman  as  she  hurried  off ;  and  be- 
fore the  ink  was  dry  on  the  receipt  Loest  wrote  out 


THE  BELIEVING  TRADESMAN.  73 

for  her,  there  she  was  again  and  deposited  six  rou- 
leaux of  fifty  thalers  each  on  his  table. 

With  her  receipt  in  her  pocket,  and  many  ex- 
pressions of  thanks  for  the  favour  done  her,  the 
old  woman  departed ;  and  just  as  she  left  the 
house  the  expectant  clerk  with  his  bill  ready  dis- 
charged in  his  hand  entered  it,  received  the  six 
rouleaux  and  departed,  leaving  Loest  speechless 
with  amazement  at  all  the  great  things  the  Lord 
had  done  for  him. 

But  the  story  is  not  yet  ended.  True,  all  pre- 
sent difficulties  were  removed,  but  any  one  at  all 
acquainted  with  trade  knows  that  it  is  no  trifle  for 
a  small  capitalist  to  reduce  his  stock  in  one  week 
by  two  thousand  six  hundred  thalers.  The  late 
run  on  the  shop  had  lessened  the  contents  of  the 
warehouse  to  an  unprecedented  extent.  Even  old 
patterns  and  articles,  which  had  been  looked  upon 
as  old  shopkeepers  for  ten  or  fifteen  years,  were 
gone.  The  shelves  and  drawers  were  so  empty 
that  the  sales  must  of  necessity  suffer  interruption 
unless  a  fresh  supply  of  goods  could  be  imme- 
diately laid  in,  and  Loest  had  no  funds  at  command 
for  the  purpose.  Yet  it  is  more  than  probable  that 
this  anticipated  dilemma  never  occurred  to  the 
mind  of  Daniel  Loest  at  this  time,  his  whole  soul 


74  RICHES   WITHOUT  WlNGS. 

being  filled  with  thankfulness  to  Him  who  giveth 
more  than  we  can  ask  or  think.  He  slept  on  the 
night  of  that  Saturday  which  had,  with  its  unusual 
stillness,  crowned  a  week  of  such  unusual  bustle,  a 
sound  and  childlike  sleep  of  serenity  and  content- 
ment, such  as  had  not  visited  his  eyelids  during  the 
preceding  week,  and  rose  refreshed  and  invigorated 
to  enjoy  with  tenfold  relish  the  public  services  of 
that  Lord's  day,  on  which  he  could  so  truly  adopt 
the  works  of  the  Psalmist :  "  Bless  the  Lord,  O  my 
soul,  and  forget  not  all  his  benefits  !  Who  forgiv- 
eth  all  thine  iniquities;  who  healeth  all  thy  dis- 
eases; wrho  redeemeth  thy  life  from  destruction; 
who  crowneth  thee  with  loving-kindness  and  ten- 
der mercies ;  who  satisfieth  thy  mouth  with  good 
things,  so  that  thy  youth  is  renewed  like  the 
eagle's."  Doubtless  he  that  day  cast  all  his  bur- 
den on  the  Lord,  and  he  was  not  left  long  with- 
out proof  that  the  Lord  "  cared  for  him." 

Next  morning  Loest  received  a  visit  from  a  mer- 
chant named  Richter,  a  native  of  Reichenbach,  in 
Silesia,  who  told  him  that,  being  obliged  by  family 
affairs  to  return  to  his  native  place,  he  was  desirous 
to  get  rid  of  his  business  in  Berlin,  and  had  there- 
fore come  to  ask  Loest  if  he  would  take  the  con- 
tents of  his  warehouse  off  his  hands. 


THE  BELIEVING  TRADESMAN.  75 

"  Willingly,  if  I  could  pay  for  it,"  replied  the 
now  experience- taught  believer ;  "  but  that,  I  must 
candidly  own  to  you,  I  cannot  do  at  present." 

"  There  is  no  occasion  that  you  should,"  was  the 
reply.  "  I  do  not  ask  any  money  down.  I  know 
your  character,  and  will  not  even  fix  a  time  of  pay- 
ment, perfectly  satisfied  with  your  assurance  to  pay 
me  when  you  conveniently  can." 

The  contents  of  the  warehouse  were  accordingly 
examined,  valued  and  duly  delivered  over  to  Mr. 
Loest,  whose  shop  was  immediately  stored  with  a 
greater  quantity  and  variety  of  goods  than  it  ever 
held  before ;  and,  partly  from  receiving  unusually 
large  orders  and  partly  from  a  rise  in  prices,  Loest 
was  not  only  enabled  to  pay  his  debt  to  Mr.  Rich- 
ter  within  a  much  shorter  period  than  either  of 
them  had  anticipated,  but  he  found  himself  in  great 
measure  reinstated  in  the  possession  of  the  sum  of 
which  he  had  been  defrauded  by  the  security-im- 
posture. 

Is  any  one  disposed  to  deem  the  tale  we  have 
told  as  highly  coloured  at  least,  if  not  a  pure  in- 
vention ?  To  such  we  reply  that,  remarkable  in 
the  highest  degree  as  the  circumstances  unquestion- 
ably are,  they  rest  on  the  testimony  of  a  well-ap- 
proved disciple  of  Christ,  backed  by  that  of  many 


76  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

to  whom  the  facts  were  well  known  at  the  time  in 
Berlin,  "  for  this  thing  was  not  done  in  a  corner," 
nor  has  the  printed  statement  concerning  it  been 
ever  contradicted. 

On  the  other  hand,  should  any  one  be  inclined 
to  ask  with  a  sneer  (as  one  did  of  old  concerning 
Job),  "  Did  Daniel  Loest  serve  God  for  naught  ?" 
we  fearlessly  answer,  Assuredly  not,  for  no  one 
ever  does.  God  says  to  every  one  now,  as  in  former 
days,  "Prove  me  now  herewith,  saith  the  Lord  of 
hosts,  if  I  will  not  open  you  the  windows  of  heaven, 
and  pour  you  out  a  blessing  that  there  shall  not  be 
room  enough  to  receive  it."  But,  nevertheless,  the 
obtaining  of  worldly  advantages  must  not  be  our 
motive  for  serving  the  Lord.  He  who  attempts  to 
make  "a  gain  of  godliness"  shall  find  that  such 
godliness  is  no  gain ;  but  if  we  seek  first  the  king- 
dom of  God  and  his  righteousness,  then  assuredly 
the  word  of  truth  will  be  fulfilled  to  us :  "  All 
these  things  shall  be  added  unto  you,  for  your 
heavenly  Father  knoweth  that  ye  have  need  of 
these  things." 

Perchance,  too,  if  all  the  servants  of  God  were 
strictly  to  review  their  past  lives,  there  would  be 
many  more  providential  interpositions  to  record 
than  the  world  wots  of:  at  all  events,  happy  is  he 


THE  BELIEVING  TRADESMAN.  77 

who  learns  from  God's  providential  care  over  him 
to  exclaim  with  Daniel  Loest,  "  Thy  testimonies 
are  wonderful,  therefore  doth  my  soul  keep  them;" 
and  who  in  times  of  deepest  trial  can  also  say, 
"  I  will  be  anxious  about  nothing,  for  surely  my 
God  will  supply  all  my  need,  according  to  his 
riches  in  glory  by  Christ  Jesus." 


POOR  PEARSON. 


[HEN  Frank  Graham,  of  Upper  Grange 
Farm,  was  a  young  man,  he  was  brought, 
in  a  very  simple  way  and  by  apparently 
very  inefficient  means,  to  a  knowledge  of  the 
religion  of  Jesus.  He  died  at  an  advanced  age, 
after  a  life  of  active  usefulness ;  and  he  often  told 
the  following  story : 

"  When  I  first  took  the  Upper  Grange  Farm," 
said  he,  "  I  was  not  only  gay  and  thoughtless,  but 
as  bitter  and  bigoted  against  the  religion  of  the 
Bible  as  ignorance  and  prejudice  could  make  me, 
and  as  thoughtlessness  and  a  tolerably  easy  temper 
would  permit  me  to  be.  My  case  was  not  a  sin- 
gular one ;  the  village  was  a  dark,  benighted  place, 
the  poor  were  sottish  and  brutal,  and  their  em- 
ployers set  them  the  example  of  dissipation  and 
folly. 

"  But  as  there  was  one  righteous  Lot  to  be  found 
even  in  the  vile  city  of  Sodom,  so  there  was  one 

78 


.    POOR  rz ARSON.  79 

pious,  godly  man  in  the  village  of  S .  This 

was  a  little  humpbacked,  stammering  fellow,  Pear- 
son by  name,  and  by  trade  a  shoemaker.  lie  was 
a  toil-worn,  care-worn  man,  and  poor ;  for  though 
he  had  no  family  of  his  own,  not  even  a  wife,  he 
was  the  sole  support  of  his  parents,  one  of  whom 
was  blind. 

"  Pearson's  religion  did  not  apparently  help  him 

on  in  the  world.  It  could  scarcely  do  this  in  S 

without  a  miracle,  for  it  kept  from  him  the  custom 
of  almost  all  the  families  in  the  village  who  had  it 
in  their  power  to  supply  him  with  profitable  work, 
but  who  declared  that  they  would  have  nothing  to 
do  with  such  a  Methodist  as  he.  He  had  there- 
fore to  travel  many  miles  round  the  country,  at  the 
expense  of  much  time  and  labour,  to  obtain  employ- 
ment ;  and  he  often  did  this  unsuccessfully. 

"  Apart  from  his  poverty,  which  was,  I  believe, 
one  of  his  lightest  burdens,  Pearson  had  cause 
enough  for  care  and  grief.  Like  Lot,  he  was  daily 
vexed  with  the  filthy  conversation  of  the  wicked ; 
he  was  bitterly  persecuted,  too,  on  account  of  his 
religion  by  his  ungodly  neighbours ;  and,  above  all 
else,  poor  Pearson  was  in  constant  concern  for  the 
souls  of  his  parents,  who,  while  depending  on  their 
son  for  shelter  and  support,  ridiculed  his  piety  and 


80  RICHES  WITHOUT   WISGS. 

reproached  him  with  his  poverty.  By  God's  mercy, 
however,  a  blessed  change  seemed  to  be  wrought 
in  them  before  they  died ;  their  ignorance  was  in 
part  removed,  and  they  tremblingly,  as  there  was 
reason  to  believe,  '  fled  for  refuge  to  lay  hold  on  the 
hope  set  before  us.' 

"How  poor  Pearson  himself  had  been  rescued 
from  the  slavery  of  sin,  I  cannot  say ;  it  is  more  to 
the  purpose  to  know  that  he  lived  a  consistent  and 
holy  life ;  so  that,  much  as  he  was  despised,  there 
was  none  occasion  to  be  found  against  him,  except 
it  was  found  against  him  concerning  the  law  of  his 
God. 

"Among  the  causes  of  reproach  against  him, 
one  was  that  he  went  every  Sunday  to  a  place  of 
worship  in  a  neighbouring  town,  the  nearest  to  our 
village.  His  conduct  was  a  tacit  reproof  to  the 
neighbours,  who  spent  their  Sundays  in  a  very 
different  manner,  and  they  resented  it  accordingly 
by  doing  mischief  to  the  poor  shoemaker's  flower- 
border,  of  which  he  was  very  fond,  and  robbing  his 
garden  of  fruits  and  vegetables  during  his  absence. 
The  persecuted  and  injured  man  seldom  complained 
of  these  outrages,  and  never  threatened.  But 
neither  was  he  deterred  from  his  Sabbath-day 
journeys. 


POOR  PEARSON.  81 

"  Such  was  poor  Pearson,  then,  when  I,  a  young 
married  man,  went  to  live  at  the  village,  and  as 
soon  as  I  heard  his  character,  told  in  no  friendly 
mood,  I  determined  to  have  nothing  to  do  with 
him.  It  was  difficult,  however,  to  keep  to  this 
resolution  entirely,  for  in  addition  to  his  shoemak- 
ing  craft,  Pearson  was  the  occasional  errand-man 
of  the  village,  which,  being  at  some  distance 
from  the  nearest  town,  needed  some  such  mode  of 
intercommunication.  It  happened,  therefore,  that 
his  occasional  journeys  were  turned  to  account  by 
the  villagers,  who,  much  as  they  disliked  him  for 
his  religion,  were  glad  to  make  use  of  him  to  suit 
their  own  convenience,  for  Pearson  was  good-na- 
tured, and  it  could  not  be  denied  that  he  was  honest 
also. 

"  I  had  been  two  or  three  years  at  S when 

one  fine  evening  I  saw  the  poor  shoemaker  turning 
out  of  the  road  and  crossing  the  meadow  toward 
Upper  Grange  Farm,  with  a  parcel  under  his  arm. 
I  took  no  notice  of  this  at  the  time,  but  walked 
away  to  avoid  speaking  to  him.  A  quarter  of  an 
hour  afterward  I  returned  home,  and,  passing 
through  the  hall,  who  should  be  there  but 
Pearson?  I  moved  on  hastily  and  entered  the 
parlour,  and  there  I  found  my  wife  fitting  on  a  pair 


82  ETCHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

of  new  shoes,  with  others  strewing  the  table.  This 
made  me  angry. 

"  *  Mary/  said  I,  '  I  ara  surprised  you  should  be 
having  shoes  of  that  Methodist  fellow !  There  are 

plenty  of  shoes  to  be  got  in  D ,  I  should  think, 

and  you  know  that  I  have  declared  I  will  not  have 
anything  to  do  with  him/ 

"  '  I  know  all  about  that,  Frank/  said  my  wife, 
'and  I  never  had  any  dealings  with  Pearson, 
though  they  do  say  he  is  the  best  and  cheapest  and 
neatest  shoemaker  in  all  the  country  round,  if  he 
could  but  get  work  enough  to  do.  However,  I 
don't  want  to  encourage  him,  I  am  sure.' 

"  I  pointed  to  the  shoes  on  the  table.  '  I  sup- 
pose you  don't  call  that  encouraging  him/  I  said  ; 
'and  I  insist — ' 

" '  There !  hold  your  tongue,  do,  Frank/  said 
Mary,  interrupting  me  and  speaking  pettishly — 
for  though  we  had  not  been  very  long  married,  we 
had  had  a  good  many  matrimonial  jars,  and  we 
had  learned  to  speak  up  sharply  when  we  crossed 
one  another's  way.  '  You  had  better/  Mary  went 
on,  'be  going  and  looking  after  your  men,  and 
leave  me  to  mind  my  own  business.' 

" '  This  is  my  business  as  well  as  yours,  Mary/ 
I  answered  with  a  good  deal  of  temper;  'and  I 


POOH  PEARSON.  83 

won't  allow  you  to  have  your  shoes  made  by  that 
Methodist  fellow/ 

" '  You  won't,  eh  ?'  said  my  wife,  rather  cross. 
c  Well  now,  Frank,  I  don't  know  how  you  are  to 
hinder  me  if  I  have  a  mind.  But  it  is  not  worth 
while  to  quarrel  about  it ;  and  so  you  may  as  well 
know  where  these  shoes  did  come  from ;'  and  she 
pushed  across  the  table  to  me  a  bill  which  had  on 

it  the  name  of  a  shoemaker  in  D ,  with  the 

prices  set  down. 

"'Oh,  that  is  another  thing,'  said  I,  rather 
sheepishly ;  '  but  what  has  Pearson  to  do  with  it. 
then  ?  and  what  is  he  waiting  for  in  the  hall  ?' 

" '  Why,  he  brought  them  for  me,  to  be  sure/ 
said  Mary.  '  I  gave  him  the  order  this  morning. 

and  told  him  to  be  sure  not  to  come  from  D 

without  them ;  and  he  is  waiting  to  take  back  what 
I  do  not  keep.  And  now  you  know  it  all,  I  hope 
you  are  the  better  for  it,  Mr.  Frank  Graham,'  she 
added,  tapping  my  elbow  playfully  with  one  of  the 
shoes;  for  I  will  do  my  Mary  the  justice  to  say 
that  though  she  liked  to  have  a  last  word  some- 
times, she  never  pushed  me  too  hard  when  she  did 
get  it. 

"  So  I  said  no  more,  but  took  up  the  newspaper 
and  left  Mary  to  attend  to  her  own  affairs  in  her 


84  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

own  way.  Mary  took  a  good  while  to  fit  herself  to 
her  mind,  and  then  she  opened  the  door  and  called 
poor  Pearson,  who  humbly  bowed  as  he  hesita- 
tingly entered  the  parlour,  and  halting, waited  fur- 
ther commands.  And  I  could  not  but  be  struck 
with  the  good  temper  the  man  showed  on  receiving 
back  the  parcel  of  shoes  and  the  money  in  pay- 
ment for  the  pair  which  my  wife  had  kept,  and  the 
quiet  way  in  which  he  promised — as  quietly,  at 
least,  as  the  natural  impediment  in  his  speech 
would  let  him — that  he  would  take  the  parcel  and 

money  back  safely  the  next  time  he  went  to  D . 

I  noticed,  too,  the  thankfulness  with  which  he 
received  a  small  fee  for  his  trouble.  Altogether, 
his  conduct  and  bearing  made  so  much  impression 
on  me  that  for  the  moment  I  forgot  my  prejudices 
against  poor  Pearson,  and,  observing  that  he  seem- 
ed weary,  I  offered  him  some  refreshment,  after 
having  partaken  of  which  he  went  his  way,  and 
for  that  evening  the  matter  was  ended. 

"  But  the  next  day,  when  I  was  in  the  fields,  a 
thought  struck  me  that  my  wife  had,  unintention- 
ally of  course,  and  from  ignorance,  been  guilty  of 
a  piece  of  meanness,  and  that  if  we  did  not  choose 
to  employ  the  Methodist  shoemaker,  we  had  no 
right  to  insult  him.  It  was  seeing  his  cottage  that 


POOR  PEARSON.  85 

put  me  in  mind  of  poor  Pearson,  and  when  I  began 
to  think  of  him  I  could  not  get  him  out  of  my 
mind,  try  as  hard  as  I  might.  Presently  I  went 
home  to  dinner. 

"'Mary,'  I  said  to  my  wife,  as  I  was  seated 
beside  the  hearth  after  dinner,  'I  hope  your  new 
shoes  will  not  pinch  you  when  you  come  to  wear 
them.' 

" '  Pinch,  Frank  !  Of  course  they  will  not. 
Why  should  they  ?  They  fit  me  very  well,'  said 
Mary. 

" ' 1  thought,  perhaps,  they  might  pinch  your 
conscience ;' — for  mark  here  though  I  was  as  care- 
less about  religion  as  one  of  my  dogs,  I  could  talk 
about  conscience — 'I  thought  they  might  pinch 
your  conscience,'  I  said. 

" '  Why  should  they  pinch  my  conscience, 
Frank?'  Mary  asked.  'I  bought  the  shoes  and 
paid  for  them,'  she  said. 

"'It  was  rather  too  bad,  though,'  said  I,  'to 
make  Pearson  your  messenger ;  do  you  not  think 
so?' 

" '  There,  Frank !'  replied  my  wife,  '  I  wish  you 
would  let  that  poor  man  alone.  I  am  sure  he  is  a 
good-natured  little  fellow,  though  he  is  a  Metho- 
dist, and  humpbacked  into  the  bargain.  I  don't 


86  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

know  what  we  should  do  without  him  for  fetching 
and  carrying.  And  why  may  I  not  make  use  of 
him  as  well  as  you?  It  was  only  last  week — ' 

" '  Pshaw,  my  dear !  you  don't  understand  me/ 
said  I.  '  I  am  taking  Pearson's  part  now ;  and  I 
know  what  I  should  have  done  if  I  had  been  in. 
his  place  and  anybody  had  given  me  such  a  job.' 

" ' Hey-dey,  Frank  !  what  new  whim  have  you 
taken  into  your  head  now  ?'  said  she. 

"'Look  here,  Mary/  I  continued;  'suppose 
now  you  were  a  shoemaker — ' 

"'I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  my  dear/ 
retorted  Mary,  'but  I  am  not  a  shoemaker.' 

" '  Well,  love,  suppose  you  were  a  milliner  or  a 
dressmaker/ 

"'Really,  Frank/  said  my  wife,  rather  nettled, 
'you  seem  very  complimentary;  but  I  am  not  a 
milliner  or  a  dressmaker.' 

" '  But  suppose  you  were — that  won't  hurt  you, 
my  dear — and  suppose  some  fine  lady  should  take 
it  into  her  head  to  send  you  to  some  grand  shop 
for  a  new  bonnet,  for  instance,  instead  of  ordering 
it  from  you,  and  then  offering  you  twopence  for 
your  trouble,  instead  of  giving  you  the  credit  and 
profit  of  serving  her  yourself— eh,  Mary  ?' 

"  *  She  would  not  ask  me  to  do  such  a  thing  a 


POOR   PEARSON.  87 

second  time/  said  Mary,  reddening  a  little,  as  I 
thought,  at  my  daring  to  fancy  her  a  milliner, 
though  it  was  only  in  the  way  of  fair  argument. 

" '  Well,  and  if  I  were  a  shoemaker,'  said  I, 
'  and  anybody  had  sent  me  on  such  a  fool's  errand, 
J  guess  I  should  have  let  out  a  bit  of  my  mind.' 

" '  I  never  thought  of  that,  really,'  said  Mary, 
who  was  a  kind-hearted  creature.  *I  am  sure  I 
don't  want  to  hurt  poor  Pearson's  feelings ;  but  he 
is  such  a  good-natured  man,  and  does  so  many 
errands  for  me,  that  it  did  not  strike  me  how  in- 
delicate it  was  to  send  him  to  another  shop  for 
what  I  could  have  bought  better,  perhaps,  at  his 
own.  But  then,  Frank,  you  know  you  have 
always  set  yourself  against  dealing  with  him,  and 
being  so  religious' — this  Mary  said  with  a  little 
sneer,  I  am  afraid — 'of  course  he  expects  to  be 
looked  down  upon.  Besides,'  she  added,  'he  is 
glad  to  earn  an  honest  penny  anyhow,  for  he  is 
badly  enough  off,  I  believe.' 

" '  And  so  he  is  likely  to  be  so  long  as  he  gets 
used  in  this  way,'  I  retorted,  '  and  does  not  show 
any  spirit ;  and  after  all,  the  man  has  a  right  to  be 
a  Methodist  if  he  likes.  And  if  his  religion  teaches 
him  to  bear  insults  with  meekness,  it  is  a  better  re- 
ligion than  I  gave  him  credit  for.  I  tell  you  what, 


88  RICHES   WITHOUT  WISGS. 

Mary/  said  I,  '  I  think  I'll  go  and  order  a  pair  of 
boots  of  Pearson.' 

"'Boots!  why  yon  have  boots  enough  now  to  last 
you  nobody  knows  how  long,'  she  remonstrated. 

" '  Never  mind/  said  I,  '  I  can  afford  to  buy 
another  pair ;'  and  without  saying  anything  more  I 
put  on  my  hat  and  strode  across  the  fields  till  I 
came  to  Pearson's  cottage. 

"Poor  Pearson  was  at  home  in  his  workshop 
patching  an  old  boot.  He  looked  up  with  surprise 
when  I  lifted  the  latch  and  went  in. 

" '  Plenty  of  work  to  do,  Pearson  ?'  I  asked  as 
familiarly  and  pleasantly  as  I  could. 

"  The  poor  fellow  shook  his  head.  '  Not  too 
much  of  that,  sir,'  he  said.  *  Business  is  not  at  all 
brisk,  sir.' 

" '  Then  you  are  not  too  busy  to  make  a  pair  of 
boots  for  me  ?'  I  said.  '  Will  you  take  my  mea- 
sure ?' 

"The  poor  shoemaker  looked  unspeakable  thanks, 
and  with  trembling  alacrity  applied  himself  to  the 
measurement  of  my  foot. 

"'So  you  have  not  overmuch  business  just  now, 
Pearson  ?' 

"'Not  much,  sir,' said  he,  speaking  cheerfully 
however. 


POOR  PEARSON.  89 

"' Pearson/  said  I,  after  he  had  finished  measur- 
ing and  I  was  lacing  up  my  boot,  '  I  wonder  you 
stick  to  this  village.  You  are  not  getting  on,  I 
am  told,  and  I  know  that  all  in  the  place  are 
against  you  because  of  your  religion.  If  I  were 
you,  I  would  go  somewhere  else  where  that  would 
go  down  better.' 

"  Pearson  looked  up  in  my  face,  to  see  if  I  \vas 
bantering  him  perhaps,  but  he  saw  no  signs  of  that, 
I  believe.  '  I  have  sometimes  thought  of  it,  sir,' 
he  said,  '  but  God's  good  providence  has  fixed  me 
here ;  and  I  can  truly  say,  sir,  that  my  heavenly 
Father  has  never  suffered  me  to  want  any  good 
thing;  and  having  food  and  raiment,  I  trust  I  am 
content.' 

" '  That  is  all  very  right,  I  dare  say,'  I  replied ; 
and  then  veering  off  from  the  subject,  'Do  you 
know,  Pearson,  how  I  came  to  order  these  boots  of 
you  ?'  I  asked. 

"The  shoemaker  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and 
then  answered  confidently  that  he  did  know  how  it 
had  come  about. 

" '  Indeed  !'  said  I ;  l  you  must  be  more  clever 
than  I  thought  you,  then ;  for  if  anybody  had  told 
me  yesterday  that  I  should  have  come  to  you  on 
such  an  errand  to-day,  I  should  not  have  believed 


90  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

it.  You  don't  know,  perhaps,  that  I  had  deter- 
mined you  never  should  do  a  stitch  of  work  for  me 
or  mine?' 

"'I  had  heard  as  much,'  said  the  man,  meekly; 
*  but  that  was  according  as  God  would.' 

"  <  Well,  then,'  I  asked,  <  I  should  like  you  to  tell 
me  what  made  me  change  my  mind.' 

"'Maybe,  sir,  it  would  displease  you;  and  I 
would  not  do  that  willingly,'  said  he. 

" '  Oh  no,  I  promise  not  to  be  offended ;  what  was 
it?' 

"( Well,  sir,'  said  Pearson,  'I  will  tell  you;  I 
don't  think  I  have  any  right  to  keep  it  from  you. 
Look  here,  sir,'  and  he  took  up  the  boot  he  was 
mending  when  I  entered ;  '  besides  this  little  job  I 
had  not  any  work  to  do.  I  was  out  yesterday,  and 
the  day  before,  and  the  day  before  that,  trying  for 
orders,  and  got  none.  Money  was  gone,  sir,  and 
without  getting  into  debt  I  had  no  food  for  to-day, 
neither  for  poor  mother  and  father  nor  self.  I  had 
not  eaten  much  yesterday,  sir,  and  I  was  nearly 
dead-beat  when  your  kindness  in  giving  me  refresh- 
ment made  another  man  of  me,  especially,  Mr. 
Graham,  as  I  had  never  expected  such  kindness 
from  you.' 

"'You  had  no  reason  to  expect  it;  I  confess/ 


POOR  PEARSON.  91 

said  I ;  '  and  what  put  it  into  my  head  just  then  to 
be  more  than  commonly  civil  I  am  sure  I  don't 
know.' 

"'  Begging  your  pardon,  sir/  continued  poor 
Pearson,  '  I  can  tell  you  that  too ;  it  was  my  Master 
and  yours,  sir,  if  I  may  be  so  bold  as  to  say  so, 
who  put  it  into  your  mind.' 

"  I  laughed  heartily  at  that.  '  Well,  go  on, 
Pearson/  I  said ;  '  I  am  quite  curious  to  know  how 
you  found  out  what  sent  me  to  you  to-day.  Per- 
haps you  think  your  Master  did  that  too  ?' 

" '  Sir,  I  do  think  so,  and  I  am  sure  of  it/  said 
the  little  shoemaker.  *  But  I'll  tell  you,  sir.  I 
came  home  thanking  God  for  his  care  of  me  and 
your  kindness,  sir ;  but  I  was  pretty  much  cast  down, 
too,  with  my  want  of  success ;  and  I  was  half  in- 
clined to  take  up  poor  David's  cry  when  he  thought 
the  Lord  had  wellnigh  forgotten  him,  which  I 
oughtn't  to  have  done.  And  then,  sir,  I  thought 
of  David's  God  and  Lord,  and  my  heart  was  lifted 
up  to  him  in  prayer  that  he  wouldn't  forsake  me. 
I  prayed  and  prayed,  sir,  till  the  load  was  taken 
off  my  mind,  and  the  prayer  was  turned  into 
praise,  for  I  felt  sure  that  God  would  help  me, 
and  that  right  early.' 

" '  And  so  you  believe,  do  you,  that  God  sent  me 


92  RICHES  WITHOUT  WfNGS. 

here  to  order  a  pair  of  boots  of  you  in  answer  to 
your  prayer?'  I  asked,  laughing  again. 

"'That  is  my  belief,  sir/  said  the  shoemaker, 
earnestly. 

"  '  Well,'  said  I,  after  a  little  pause,  '  you  are  a 
queer  sort  of  an  enthusiast,  but  you  are  at  liberty 
to  think  what  you  like,  so  you  make  me  a  good 
pair  of  boots  for  my  money ;'  and  then  I  went  out 
of  the  shop  without  telling  him  how  I  had  been 
moved  to  give  him  the  order. 

"  But  I  couldn't  get  the  poor  fellow  out  of  my 
thoughts.  First  of  all,  there  was  his  civility  and 
good-nature  in  submitting  to  the  slights  put  upon 
him  by  my  wife ;  then  there  was  his  evident  pov- 
erty and  destitution,  borne  with  so  much  patience ; 
and  there  was  his  simplicity  in  speaking  about  his 
struggles  of  mind ;  and  there  was  his  firm  belief 
that  God  had  answered  his  prayer.  I  tried  to  make 
a  joke  of  this  to  my  Mary  when  I  got  home,  but 
somehow  what  seemed  to  be  the  only  thing  to  be 
laughed  at  before  it  was  spoken  did  not  look  like 
a  joke  at  all  when  it  was  told. 

"I  need  not  make  my  story  much  longer.  A 
few  days  afterward  I  called  on  poor  Pearson  a 
second  time,  under  pretence  of  asking  him  if  my 
boots  were  made,  but  in  reality  to  get  hira  into 


POOR  PEARSON.  93 

talk  again.  And  this  time  I  had  no  inclination 
to  laugh.  A  few  Sundays  later  I  went  to  my  room 
after  breakfast,  and  soon  came  down  dressed  for  a 
journey. 

" '  Why,  Frank  !'  said  my  wife,  '  where  can  you 
be  going  to-day  ?' 

"  '  I  am  going  to  D /  said  I ;  '  I  have  a  cu- 
riosity to  hear  poor  Pearson's  parson/ 

" '  You  might  as  well  ask  me  to  go  with  you, 
Frank/  said  Mary. 

" ( You  do  not  mean  that  you  would  go  there  if 
I  were  to  ask  you  ?'  I  said. 

"  Yes,  I  will,  Frank/  she  replied ;  and  we  went. 

"  We  went  a  second  time,  and  a  third ;  we  went 
constantly  after  that,  till  God  in  his  providence 
brought  the  preached  gospel  to  us  nearer  home; 
and  soon  enough  the  story  got  about  that  Frank 
Graham  and  his  wife  had  turned  Methodists.  It 
did  not  matter,  that;  we  did  not  think  much  of  what 
our  neighbours  said;  we  had  something  else  to 
think  about,  for  it  pleased  God  to  show  us  both 
that  we  had  been  all  our  lives  disobedient  and 
careless,  that  we  were  'already  condemned'  by  his 
holy  law,  and  that '  there  is  none  other  name  under 
heaven  whereby  we  must  be  saved '  but  the  name 
of  his  dear  Son. 


94  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

"  And  what  led  me  first  to  think  about  my  soul 
was  poor  Pearson's  meekness  and  good  temper 
under  what  most  men  would  have  considered  an 
insult,  and  his  cheerful  confidence  in  God  in  time 
of  trouble.  By  those  tokens  I  was  made  to  see 
there  was  something  more  in  the  religion  of  the 
Bible  than  I  had  ever  before  believed." 


HOW  LARRY  BOND  GOT  ENOUGH. 


)  ARRY  BOND  was  left  an  orphan  at  six 
years  old,  and  would  have  been  consigned 
to  the  parish  but  for  an  old  aunt,  who,  poor 
as  she  was,  determined  to  bring  him  up  with 
the  slender  help  of  one  shilling  and  sixpence  and  a 
loaf  per  week  afforded  to  her  by  "  the  board." 

Mrs.  Bond  kept  an  apple-stall  at  the  corner  of  a 
wide  thoroughfare,  on  one  side  of  which  was  the 
large  wholesale  and  retail  grocery  establishment  of 
"  Page  and  Page."  She  used  to  make  Larry  stand 
by  her  stall  and  learn  his  lesson,  or  knit,  or  pick 
up  what  chanced  to  fall,  or  carry  fruit  for  any  one 
that  made  an  extensive  purchase,  if  the  distance 
was  short. 

He  was  a  quick  and  docile  child,  and  readily 
fell  in  with  all  her  requirements.  He  soon  learnt 
as  much  in  the  book  way  as  she  could  teach  him, 
and  in  a  vacant  hour  would  prosecute  his  studies  by 

95 


96  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

reading  the  names  over  the  shop  doors ;  his  pale 
but  bright  face  attracted  the  notice  of  kind-hearted 
customers,  and  he  not  seldom  got  a  halfpenny  per- 
quisite. But  these  halfpennies  were  valueless  to 
him  :  he  knew  he  must  surrender  them  to  his  aunt, 
who,  with  all  her  efforts,  could  barely  pay  for  scanty 
fare  and  the  rent  of  her  cellar. 

A  dark  cellar  it  was,  and  small  too ;  the  stall 
and  its  furniture  occupied  the  greater  part  of  it, 
and  there  was  no  light  but  from  a  little  grating  into 
the  street.  Larry,  who  yet  remembered  his  home 
in  the  country,  which  had  trees  all  round  it  and 
the  blue  sky  smiling  through  the  window,  did  not 
like  it ;  neither  did  he  like  the  perfect  quiet  he  was 
obliged  to  keep  while  his  aunt  spelled  over  her  chap- 
ter and  prayed  ;  but  he  was  early  inured  to  patience, 
and  did  not  dare  to  complain. 

Mrs.  Bond  was  a  good  woman,  but  had  no  sym- 
pathies with  children.  Larry  made  a  great  inroad 
upon  her  comfort  by  his  presence,  yet  she  bore  it 
from  a  sense  of  what  she  considered  duty.  She 
accustomed  him  to  Sabbath  observance,  and  always 
t6ok  him  to  church,  and  in  the  evening  she  would 
try  and  spell  out  some  of  the  New  Testament  when 
the  light  was  strong  enough  to  let  her.  Larry, 
however,  soon  beat  her  at  reading,  and  then  she 


HOW  LARRY  BOND  GOT  ENOUGH.    97 

made  him  read  to  her — a  task  as  onerous  as  that 
of  listening  to  her. 

It  was  a  safe  life,  but  a  very  dull  one,  and  so 
Larry  thought ;  besides,  in  winter  it  was  very  cold 
standing  by  the  stall  all  day ;  he  was  scarcely  warm 
by  morning,  when  he  had  to  get  up  in  the  dark 
and  dress  himself  like  a  bat,  "  by  feel ;"  and  then, 
although  his  aunt  always  gave  him  his  full  share, 
their  living  was  meagre,  and  he  often  felt  more 
hungry  when  he  had  finished  his  meal  than  he  was 
when  he  began  it. 

But  Larry  forgot  all  his  wants  and  sorrows  when 
he  had  time  to  gaze  on  and  contemplate  one  object 
— that  was  the  house  of  "Page  and  Page."  To 
the  principals,  who  lived  out  of  town  and  drove  in 
in  the  morning  to  business,  he  never  lifted  his  eyes. 
Her  Majesty  going  to  open  Parliament  would 
scarcely  have  exceeded  (in  his  mind)  the  grandeur 
with  which  they  were  invested  ;  and  for  the  gentle- 
man called  the  foreman,  who  sometimes  came  to 
the  door  with  a  pen  in  his  hand,  he  felt  a  reverence 
almost  amounting  to  awe.  He  would  gaze  with 
admiration  through  the  hanging  grapes  and  other 
various  wonders  of  the  windows  (which,  as  things 
to  be  possessed  and  eaten,  were  simply  fabulous  in 
his  eyes);  at  the  young  gentlemen  behind  the  ample 


98  RICHES  WITHOUT  WISGS. 

counter,  so  well  dressed,  with  their  snow-white 
aprons  and  sleeves  and  smiling  faces,  rapidly  pass- 
ing from  customer  to  customer,  taking  down  the 
huge  golden  canisters  or  piling  up  sugar  on  the 
scale  with  an  indifference  that  showed  their  famil- 
iarity with  luxury.  Envy  of  such  favoured  beings 
never  touched  his  heart — they  were  too  high  for 
envy;  the  porters  were  grown-up  men,  and  he 
would  look  at  them,  and  the  thought  would  occur, 
"If  ever  I  am  a  man,  could  I  be  a  porter?" 
Under  any  form  or  capacity  to  enter  the  privileged 
doors  of  "  Page  and  Page  "  seemed  to  him  to  be  on 
the  high  road  to  happiness. 

One,  indeed,  there  was  whose  place  in  that  estab- 
lishment he  dared  to  envy — for  he  felt  he  might 
under  happier  circumstances  be  able  to  fill  it,  that 
is,  if  he  were  older,  stronger,  better  dressed  and 
had  interest  to  get  it — and  that  was  the  junior 
errand-boy.  This  boy  had,  as  he  conceived,  the 
pleasantest  life  imaginable — carrying  baskets  full 
of  good  things  hither  and  thither,  and  always  look- 
ing warm  and  busy,  and  even  he  had  an  apron. 

But  Larry  was  doomed  to  stand  by  the  stall  and 
serve  till  he  was  nearly  ten  years  old.  A  tall  boy 
of  his  age,  semi-starvation  had  not  stopped  his 
growth  nor  deadened  the  intelligence  of  his  counte- 


HOW  LARRY  BOND  GOT  ENOUGH.         99 

nance.  One  day  he  was  sorting  the  apples  and 
putting  them  into  tempting  pennyworths,  when  the 
foreman  came  and  stood  at  the  door  with  his  pen  in 
his  hand.  Was  it  possible  that  he  beckoned  to 
Larry?  He  did;  and  in  his  haste  to  obey  his 
Btimmons  Larry  nearly  upset  the  stall. 

"  Tell  your  grandmother  to  come  here/'  said  the 
foreman,  retiring  up  the  shop. 

"  She's  my  aunt,"  said  Larry ;  but  the  foreman 
did  not  hear,  or  was  not  nice  about  the  degree  of 
affinity  between  them,  and  continued  his  walk. 

Larry,  somewhat  disappointed,  told  his  aunt  she 
was  wanted ;  the  momentary  hope  he  had  enter- 
tained of  being  himself  admitted  having  vanished. 

Mrs.  Bond  was  away  some  time,  and  when  she 
returned,  told  Larry  the  errand-boy  whom  he  had 
so  diligently  watched  had  left,  and  the  foreman, 
having  often  observed  how  quick  and  well-behaved 
he  was,  had  offered  to  try  him  for  a  short  time,  as 
he  was  in  want  of  one  at  once. 

"  Now  you  mind,  Larry,  I  gave  you  the  best  of 
words  to  him,  and  I  can  tell  you  that  it's  my  train- 
ing and  care  of  you  that's  made  such  A  prospect 
for  you  ;  so  I  hope  you'll  mind  and  remember,  and 
bring  credit  on  me." 

Larry  was  bewildered;  his  golden  dreams,  his 


100  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

airy  castles  realized  in  a  moment.  The  stall 
couldn't  be  left,  so  his  aunt  sent  him  alone,  telling 
him  he  was  to  have  three  shillings  a  week  to  begin 
with.  He  hardly  knew  how  to  comport  himself 
when  he  stood  before  the  dignitaries  within  the 
shop  of  "  Page  and  Page ;"  but  the  young  gentle- 
men, one  and  all,  smiled  benignantly  on  him,  and 
ordered  Cox,  the  head  errand-boy,  to  give  him  the 
departed  official's  apron  and  basket.  The  apron 
was  too  long  considerably,  and  the  basket  looked 
almost  large  enough  to  hold  him ;  but  he  dextrously 
twitched  up  the  former,  and  as  to  the  latter,  he 
carried  it  with  such  vigour  that  no  one  would 
have  had  the  heart  to  question  his  strength. 

That  night  the  good  old  woman  lifted  her  heart 
in  humble  gratitude  to  the  Father  of  mercies,  and 
prayed  fervently  that  grace  might  be  given  to  the 
boy  to  walk  wisely  and  to  perform  aright  the 
duties  of  his  new  calling.  Larry  joined  in  a  vague 
sense  of  thankfulness,  but  to  the  prayer  for  divine 
guidance  and  help  his  wandering  heart  echoed  no 
response. 

Larry  performed  his  errands  with  faultless 
rapidity  and  exactness ;  he  seemed  to  know  by  in- 
tuition where  everybody  lived,  and  never  made 
mistakes.  When  he  received  his  three  shillings  on 


HOW  LARRY  BOND  GOT  ENOUGH.   101 

Saturday  night  from  the  foreman,  he  was  com- 
mended, and  told  he  should  be  continued  in  his  place 
if  he  went  on  as  he  had  begun. 

His  aunt  told  him  he  must  now  "  find  himself," 
and  also  pay  her  sixpence  a  week  toward  the  rent 
of  the  cellar,  as  she  should  get  no  more  parish 
allowance,  now  he  had  gone  to  work.  Half  a  crown 
a  week  was  not  much  for  a  growing  working  boy's 
board  (though  it  is  beyond  the  average  often  of 
what  a  working  man  gets  for  each  member  of  his 
family),  but  to  Larry  it  seemed  inexhaustible ;  and 
the  first  penny  loaf  which  he  bought  and  ate  at 
once  was  the  sweetest  morsel  he  had  ever  tasted. 

His  good  behaviour  recommended  him  to  the 
whole  establishment ;  he  was  so  on  the  alert  that, 
except  on  great  market-days,  when  the  influx  of 
customers  was  like  a  rushing  tide,  and  he  had  thrice 
his  ordinary  work,  he  was  at  liberty  to  run  on 
errands  for  the  house;  and  the  cook  declared  he 
was  "the  willingest,  sharpest  boy  they  had  ever 
had ;  and  wished  he  was  in  Cox's  place,  for  he  was 
more  deserving  of  it." 

"  Cox's  place !"  Cox  lived  in  the  house,  dined  in 
the  kitchen  every  day,  and  slept  in  a  room  by  him- 
self every  night.  Cox's  place !  oh  no !  Larry 
dared  not  think  of  it,  and  yet  from  the  time  he 


102  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

heard  the  cook's  wish  it  became  his  reigning  idea. 
He  was,  if  possible,  more  anxious  than  ever  to 
please  (especially  the  cook);  instead  of  rejoicing  in 
his  present  good  condition,  he  would  go  to  sleep  at 
night  counting  up  the  advantages  enjoyed  by  Cox, 
and  long  for  them.  Cox  didn't  pay  for  lodgings. 
Cox  had  enough  to  eat  every  day — and  meat 
always — and  pudding  on  Sundays !  Happy  Cox  ! 

His  aunt  saw  a  change  in  him,  but  could  not 
account  for  it.  "  I  hope,  Larry,  you  don't  begrudge 
the  sixpence  you  give  toward  the  rent,"  she  said. 
"  You  have  fourpence  farthing  left  for  your  daily 
food,  remember,  and  that's  more  than  I  can  spend 
on  myself.  You  know,  Larry,  I  sha'n't  be  able  to 
keep  the  stall  much  longer,  and  I  must  lay  by  a 
little.  I've  got  no  friend  to  look  to."  Larry,  who 
had  early  learned  to  calculate,  said  he  didn't  know 
how  he  should  get  clothes  if  he  spent  all  his  money 
every  week.  "Well,  then,"  said  his  aunt,  upon 
reflection,  "  I'll  let  go  the  sixpence,  and  that  may 
go  for  clothes  till  you're  raised,  and  then  you  can 
pay  me  back." 

Even  this  arrangement  did  not  clear  the  clouds 
from  his  brow,  but  he  feared  to  tell  his  aunt  what 
his  heart  was  set  upon,  lest  she  should  lecture  him 
upon  a  dissatisfied  spirit. 


HOW  LARRY  BOND  GOT  ESOLGH.   103 

It  was  but  a  few  days  after  this  that  he  brought 
her  the  joyful  news  that  Cox  was  going  to  leave 
and  he  was  going  to  have  his  place ;  and  in  the 
fulness  of  his  joy  he  confessed  that  he  had  been 
looking  and  longing  for  this,  but  did  not  dare  to 
hope  for  it,  as  he  was  so  young.  "  I  am  to  live  in 
the  house,  and  have  the  same  wages,"  he  said,  clap- 
ping his  hands;  "so  I  can  afford  to  buy  clothes 
and  save  my  money  too." 

"  \Vell-a-day !"  said  Mrs.  Bond,  "  you  will  be 
rich.  I  hope  you'll  be  contented  too;  but  if  you 
are  not,  my  boy,  the  rise  won't  do  you  much  good, 
remember."  Notwithstanding  this  caution,  she 
rejoiced  in  his  prosperity,  and  did  her  best  to  pre- 
pare his  scanty  wardrobe  for  living  in  the  house  of 
"  Page  and  Page."  "  You'll  be  able  now  to  give 
me  sixpence  a  week  for  your  washing,"  she  said. 
"  I've  done  it  for  nothing  while  you  hadn't  it  to 
pay."  Larry  assented,  but  not  with  the  alacrity 
she  would  have  liked.  "  It's  having  known  hard- 
ship early,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  that  makes  him 
stingy ;  but  I  wish  he  had  more  generous  ways." 

When  Larry,  with  his  small  bundle  under  his 
arm,  walked  into  the  shop  on  the  day  that  he  was 
to  become  "house-servant,"  a  spirit  more  elated 
was  not  in  the  whole  country.  The  cook  directed 


104  RICHES   WITHOUT  WIXGS. 

him  where  to  find  "  his  room."  It  was  a  loft,  into 
which  he  entered  by  a  ladder  from  the  warehouse ; 
the  rafters  were  not  whitewashed ;  bales  of  goods, 
old  casks,  etc.,  were  ranged  along  it.  The  bed  was 
on  the  floor  in  the  corner;  the  only  light  was  from 
four  squares  of  thick  glass  let  into  the  tiles;  on 
the  whole,  a  more  cheerful  apartment  might  be 
imagined,  but  Larry  saw  in  it  nothing  short  of 
perfection.  He  deposited  his  bundle  with  a  feel- 
ing of  ownership  or  proprietorship — it  was  his 
own  room — and  although  he  had  heard  Cox  com- 
plain of  the  rats  and  mice  in  it,  he  was  not  dis- 
couraged. 

For  some  time  he  was  more  than  satisfied  with 
his  quarters :  such  living,  both  in  quality  and 
quantity,  he  could  not  have  imagined.  When  he 
went  on  Saturday  night  to  pay  his  aunt  and  fetch 
his  Sunday  shirt,  he  would  enlarge  in  glowing 
terms  on  his  fare.  She  listened  patient  and 
pleased  for  a  few  times,  but  warned  him  at  last 
not  to  think  too  much  of  his  comforts,  and  ques- 
tioned him  as  to  his  Bible,  whether  he  got  time  to 
read  a  little,  as  she  had  made  him  do  every  day, 
and  whether  he  was  regular  in  his  prayers.  "  It 
may  be,  Larry,  you  don't  pray  with  your  heart,  as 
you  ought  to  do ;  but  never  mind,  you  must  pray 


HOW  LARRY  BOND  GOT  ENOUGH.   105 

that  you  may  pray ;  it  was  a  good  man  that  said 
that." 

Such  lectures  were  distasteful  to  him,  and  in  his 
heart  he  shrank  from  them  and  turned  gladly 
away — glad  too  that  he  no  longer  shared  her  sup- 
per of  bread  and  herring  and  sugarless  tea,  though 
he  had  once  reckoned  on  Saturday  night's  supper 
as  the  treat  of  the  week. 

But  he  got  used  to  good  living,  though  he  did 
not  become  careless  in  consequence,  but  redoubled 
his  efforts  to  please.  He  had  now  a  higher  prize 
than  Cox's  happy  lot  in  view.  He  had  grown  tall 
and  stout  with  his  altered  diet.  His  improved 
clothing,  which,  by  his  aunt's  help  and  manage- 
ment, his  wages  furnished  him  with,  made  a  great 
change  in  his  appearance.  True,  he  was  not  born 
a  gentleman,  but  he  had  heard  from  one  of  the 
porters  that  one  of  the  sprucest  of  those  who,  like 
lords  in  the  upper  house,  were  behind  the  counter, 
had  been  raised  by  the  foreman  from  a  station  iii 
life  as  low  as  his;  but  then  he  had  had  good 
schooling  from  the  parish. 

From  the  moment  that  the  porter  told  him  this 
the  arrow  entered,  and  schooling,  not  "  living,"  was 
his  ruling  desire.  By  dint  of  inquiry  he  found  an 
evening  school,  and  with  the  foreman's  consent  at- 


106  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

tended  it;  and  buying  a  bottle  of  oil  he  put  a  cot- 
ton wick  in  it,  and  hours  after  the  household  slept 
he  was  poring  over  his  book  or  his  sum,  raising  a 
considerable  stock  of  knowledge  on  the  foundation 
of  his  aunt's  first  lessons. 

All  this  was  noticed  by  the  foreman,  who,  seeing 
that  he  did  not  neglect  his  work  to  prosecute  his 
studies,  praised  what  he  called  his  laudable  am- 
bition, and  paid  for  his  schooling,  furnishing  him 
with  books  and  allowing  him  time  to  use  them 
when  business  permitted.  His  anxiety  to  succeed 
in  his  darling  aspirations  nearly  defeated  his  ends ; 
he  overworked  himself,  and  his  aunt  saw  with 
sorrow  that  his  eyes  grew  heavy  and  his  cheek  sal- 
low. She  soon  found  out  what  caused  this,  and 
though  she  praised  his  diligence  and  industry,  she 
warned  him  as  usual  against  setting  his  heart  too 
much  on  the  world.  When  he  told  her  what  the 
porter  had  said,  she  smiled  and  replied,  "  You 
thought  you  were  to  be  quite  happy  when  you  got 
Cox's  place,  but  now  you  want  more."  He  said  it 
was  right  to  try  and  get  on ;  "  and  if  I  got  to  be 
promoted  by  the  foreman  I  should  have — " 

"  Larry,  my  boy,  don't  think  of  what  you  would 
have,  but  what  you  have;  that's  the  way  to  be 
happy."  But  Larry  was  not  to  be  persuaded ;  he 


HOW  LARRY  BOND  GOT  ENOUGH.      107 

had  no  rest  in  his  spirit  until  his  long  labours  and 
determined  efforts  were  rewarded,  and  the  foreman, 
ascertaining  his  fitness,  raised  him  to  be  a  helper 
to  those  who  served.  He  was  now  furnished  with 
clothes ;  his  loft,  which  he  at  first  had  entered  on 
with  such  pride,  was  left  for  his  successor,  and 
he  had  now  a  room  containing  furniture  of  which 
he  could  scarcely  tell  the  use;  and  beyond  and 
above  all  his  weekly  wages  were  changed  to  "a 
salary"  of  twenty  pounds  per  annum. 

His  work  was  of  a  different  kind,  and  much 
more  incessant  than  before,  but  he  gloried  in  it. 
The  long  bills  he  had  to  cast  up,  the  long  invoices 
he  had  to  read  out  for  checking,  the  goods  he  had 
to  direct  and  send,  and  the  messages  from  the  fore- 
man in  the  counting-house  to  the  young  gentlemen, 
and  from  the  young  gentlemen  to  the  foreman, — it 
was  all  a  delightful  variety,  and  the  more  his  at- 
tainments and  readiness  were  in  demand,  the  better 
he  was  satisfied. 

Dressed  in  his  new  clothes,  with  a  present  of  tea 
and  snuff,  he  paid  a  visit  to  Mrs.  Bond.  He  told 
her  of  his  golden  fortunes,  and  talked  to  her  about 
"  prices,"  and  "  what  we  sell  at,"  as  if  he  had  been 
behind  the  counter  for  years.  She  had  given  up 
her  apple-stall :  now  that  he  was  well  off  in  the 


108  RICHES   WITHOUT  WIXGS. 

world,  she  had  no  care  but  for  herself,  and  the  lit- 
tle she  had  saved  was  sufficient  for  her  less  wants. 

"I  shall  be  able  now  to  allow  you  a  shilling  a 
week,"  he  said.  "Twenty  pounds  a  year — well, 
fifty-two  shillings  out  of  it  will  leave  enough  to 
keep  up  clothes  like  these,  I  hope!"  He  spoke 
consideringly.  His  aunt  didn't  refuse  it.  "  It  '11 
help  to  keep  his  heart  open,"  she  said  to  herself. 

Time  wore  the  gilt  off  even  of  twenty  pounds 
per  annum,  new  clothes  and  an  almost  gentleman's 
place ;  and  Mrs.  Bond  thought  her  nephew  looked 
none  the  happier  for  his  rise. 

No,  he  was  not.  He  had  heard  how  high  the 
salaries  of  those  above  him  were,  and  he  saw  that 
he  had  double  their  work.  It  was  his  place  to  be 
the  first  in  the  shop  to  prepare  the  counter,  to  be 
first  in  the  counting-house  to  get  ready  the  books, 
to  be  at  work  before  they  were  stirring,  to  be  at 
work  clearing  away  at  night  while  they  were  at 
their  ease.  He  did  not  care  for  work,  but  he  did 
for  its  payment. 

All  this,  however,  he  kept  within.  His  good  old 
aunt,  just  on  the  point  of  getting  an  almshouse  for 
which  she  had  long  patiently  waited,  was  taken  to 
a  better  home.  Her  last  words  to  him  had  been  to 
warn  him  not  to  let  the  mercies  of  God  close  his 


HOW  LARRY  EOND  GOT  ENOUGH.   109 

heart  against  him.  "  If  you  live  for  the  world,  you 
will  be  a  disappointed  man,  get  what  you  will  in 
it,"  she  said.  She  gave  him  her  Bible,  but  all  her 
other  possessions  she  left  to  the  poor  woman  in  the 
next  cellar  who  had  nursed  and  watched  her. 

Larry  felt  alone  when  she  was  gone,  but  her 
worth  had  never  been  recommended  to  him  by 
winning  ways.  Except  that  he  felt  he  had  lost  a 
faithful  friend,  he  was  little  affected  by  her  death. 
As  to  her  Bible,  he  put  it  away  as  she  gave  it  to 
him,  wrapped  up  carefully  in  paper,  to  keep  for  her 
sake  ;  but  he  had  a  new  one  with  gilt  leaves  and  a 
clasp,  which  the  foreman  had  presented  to  him  at 
Christmas — that  he  took  to  church.  At  home  he 
had  quite  left  off  looking  at  it. 

"Seest  thoti  a  man  diligent  in  his  business?  he 
shall  sts  nd  before  kings." 

Larry  Bond  found  this  to  be  true.  In  all  labour 
there  is  profit.  We  cannot  follow  him  through  it 
all,  but  step  by  step  he  rose  till  he  received  the 
highest  salary,  and  was  second  only  to  the  foreman 
in  the  house  of  "  Page  and  Page." 

At  each  remove  he  believed  he  was  satisfied  and 
should  remain  so,  but  soon  the  insatiable  "  Give, 
give !"  returned,  and  it  was  plain  while  anything 
remained  before  him  he  would  not  rest. 


110  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

And  so  he  looked  ambitiously  at  the  foreman's 
post,  the  fine  house  he  occupied  and  the  honour- 
able trust  reposed  in  him  by  "  Page  and  Page." 
And  when  on  his  retiiing  he  recommended  Larry 
to  the  firm  as  his  successor,  and  obtained  for  him 
the  post,  he  soon  aspired  to  being  his  own  master. 
Why  should  he  not  be  made  a  partner  ?  He  did 
all  the  work.  His  energy  and  industry  and  cau- 
tion increased  the  gains  and  extended  the  fame  of 
the  house.  He  ought  to  be  a  partner. 

At  last  he  was  a  partner.  Yes,  the  little  apple- 
boy,  who  had  once  beheld  "Page  and  Page"  as 
mysteries  of  greatness,  was  now  on  the  same  plat- 
form with  them,  and  had  his  name  engraved  with 
theirs  in  copper-plate  upon  the  invoices. 

Surely  the  world  had  done  all  that  could  be  done 
for  Larry  Bond.  Money,  station,  respect  were 
abundantly  his.  He  had  now,  moreover,  a  wife 
that  pleased  him,  and  every  comfort  of  home.  Yet 
he  became  again  dissatisfied  with  his  portion. 
What  he  wanted  he  did  not  know,  but  he  felt  that 
he  wanted  something,  and  wondered  often  in  his 
leisure  hours  what  it  was  to  which  he  might  reason- 
ably ascribe  his  discontent. 

He  was  turning  over  some  papers  one  evening, 
and  missing  one,  searched  for  it  in  an  unlikely 


HOW  LARRY  BOND  GOT  ENOUGH.       Ill 

place,  having  tried  every  likely  one.  That  was  an 
old  bureau,  the  first  article  of  furniture  he  had 
ever  bought  and  called  his  own.  As  he  opened  one 
drawer,  something  obstructed  it.  It  was  a  brown 
paper  parcel — his  aunt's  Bible. 

Thoughts  of  various  kinds  crowded  on  him  as  he 
turned  over  its  leaves,  many  of  which  were  folded 
down  to  mark  their  special  value. 

"  Poor  old  soul !"  said  Larry,  with  a  sigh,  as  he 
turned  up  one  after  another;  "she  was  a  good 
friend  to  me.  I  wish — I  wish — no,  I  don't  wish 
she  was  still  alive,  for  I  do  believe  she  is  better  off ; 
but  I  wish — "  Here  he  was  at  fault,  for  he  could 
not  say  what  he  wished.  He  soon  closed  the  Bible, 
but  a  feeling  of  loneliness  pressed  on  his  heart. 
One  of  the  places  which  had  been  folded  down  was 
the  parable  of  the  rich  fool.  His  eye  had  glanced 
over  it — he  understood  well  that  his  aunt  had 
pointed  the  lesson  specially  to  him — but  feeling 
that  he  had  not  that  satisfaction  with  his  lot  which 
the  fool  had,  that  he  had  no  disposition  to  say  to 
his  soul,  "Take  thine  ease;  eat,  drink,  and  be 
merry,"  he  said  mentally,  "  She  was  wrong  there." 
Yet  there  was  an  expression  that  he  could  not  get 
rid  of:  "  So  is  he  that  ....  is  not  rich  toward 
God."  "Rich  toward  God?"  he  repeated  to 


112  RICHES   WITHOUT   WINGS. 

himself  more  than  once  with  a  questioning  ex- 
pression. 

The  next  day  he  was  inspecting  some  goods  newly 
stored  when  a  porter  attracted  his  notice.  He  was 
standing  with  his  back  against  a  cask,  apparently 
reading.  "Nichols!"  he  cried.  The  man  turned 

O 

round,  and  thrusting  a  paper  in  his  pocket,  ad- 
vanced. "You're  at  your  ease!"  said  Larry. 
"Waiting  for  the  truck,  sir,"  was  the  answer. 
"What  were  you  reading?"  "A  pretty  thing 
enough,"  said  Nichols,  taking  out  the  tract  and 
smoothing  the  leaves  as  he  offered  it.  While  he 
\vas  in  the  act  of  doing  so,  the  son  of  the  elder  Mr. 
Page,  who  was  about  to  sail  as  a  missionary  to  the 
East,  came  into  the  warehouse  in  search  of  Larry, 
with  a  message  from  his  father.  "  Ah !"  he  ex- 
claimed, glad  to  see  the  paper  in  his  hand,  "  that's 
a  good  tract ;  do  you  know  it  ?"  Larry  did  not 
answer,  but  looked  at  Nichols,  who  said,  seeing  he 
was  referred  to,  "It's  uncommon  pretty  reading, 
sir,  as  I  was  telling  master."  "  Oh  !  I  am  rejoiced 
to  hear  that  you  like  to  read  such  things/'  rejoined 
the  missionary.  "  I  trust,  friend,  that  you  love  the 
Lord  Jesus."  "  Love  him  !"  replied  the  porter,  as 
if  almost  indignant  at  the  doubt  implied ;  "who's 
to  help  loving  him  that  believes  in  him?"  "Ah! 


HO W  LARR Y  B OND  GOT  ENO UGH.       113 

I  see  you  know  his  preciousness,"  said  the  mis- 
sionary with  emotion.  "  I  do  sir,  I  do,"  said  the 
porter.  "Well  I  may  love  him — he's  all  the 
world  to  me." 

The  truck  came  up,  and  the  men  called  to  Nichols 
to  help  to  load ;  and  shaking  with  heartiness  the 
proffered  hand  of  the  missionary,  he  turned  quickly 
to  obey  the  summons. 

"  You  are  happy  in  having  such  a  man  in  your 
house,"  said  Mr.  Page,  his  face  glowing  with  ani- 
mation; "it  is  seldom  we  meet  with  so  hearty 
testimony  to  the  worth  of  our  dear  Master." 

Larry  made  a  stumbling  kind  of  reply :  "  He 
was  a  sober  man,  hard-working,  a  very  good  ex- 
ample," etc. 

"Yes,  yes;  I  could  see  genuine  faith  and  love  in 
him,"  said  the  ardent  young  man ;  "  and  it  has 
been  a  blessing  to  me." 

Larry  was  much  puzzled  how  Nichols  could  be 
a  blessing  to  Mr.  Page ;  but  he  read  the  note  from 
his  father  and  entered  on  the  business  it  contained. 
This  was  soon  discussed.  As  they  were  about  to 
part  the  missionary  said,  "  I  shall  probably  not  see 
you  again,  Mr.  Bond ;  God  willing,  I  sail  shortly, 
and  I  have  much  to  do  before  then,  therefore  I  bid 
you  good-bye." 


114  ETCHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

"  How  long  do  you  expect  to  be  absent  ?"  asked 
Larry. 

"  While  it  shall  please  God  to  give  me  health 
and  strength  to  work  for  him,"  was  the  young 
man's  answer. 

"  But  that  may  be  to  the  end  of  your  days ;  I 
trust  it  will,  I'm  sure,  and  that  you'll  have  a  long 
life  of  both/'  he  answered. 

"  Amen,  if  it  is  his  will,  and  if  so  how  can  they 
be  so  well  spent  as  in  his  service  ?  I  would  gladly 
stay  in  England  and  work,  but  the  cry  is  con- 
tinually made,  '  No  one  will  go  out,'  therefore  I 

go." 

"  It's  a  great  sacrifice,"  said  Larry,  as  he  thought 
of  the  "fine  business,"  immense  income,  and  so 
much  more  that  made  life  desirable,  that  lie  was 
about  to  leave. 

"  It  looks  very  small  when  we  compare  it  with 
what  he  sacrificed  for  us,  Mr.  Bond,"  answered  the 
missionary. 

"Well,  I  hope  you  will  be  rewarded,"  said 
Larry. 

"Rewarded!"  was  the  answer;  "when  did  he 
ever  fail  to  reward  the  giving  of  a  cup  of  cold 
water  ?  It  matters  not  how  or  where  his  servants 
work.  He  reivards  them.  In  keeping  of  his 


HOW  LARRY  BOND  GOT  ENOUGH.       115 

commandments  there  is  a  great  reward.  When  the 
law  of  God  enters  our  hearts  the  reward  comes 
with  it ;  there  is  a  sweetness  and  a  satisfaction  in 
working  for  him,  ever  so  humbly,  that  no  man  finds 
from  the  most  costly  payments  of  the  world." 

"Well,  I  hope  we  are  all  working  for  God,  one 
way  or  another,"  said  Larry,  in  a  somewhat  quer- 
ulous tone. 

"  I'll  tell  you  how  we  may  know  if  we  are,"  re- 
plied the  missionary,  who  suspected  that  Larry  was 
as  yet  a  man  wholly  of  the  world.  "  If  we  are 
working  for  him  because  we  love  him  and  would  obey 
him.  Many  work  for  him  indirectly,  without  any 
such  desire.  They  uphold  his  moral  law,  are  sober, 
just  and  honest,  and  faithfully  discharge  their 
duties  in  life  (as  they  think],  not  because  they  love 
him,  but  because  they  love  themselves ;  and  know- 
ing that  establishing  a  good  character  is  a  sure  way 
to  prosper,  they  labour  to  do  it.  But  do  you  think 
he  accepts  such  service  as  this  ?  No :  they  work 
for  the  world,  and  the  world  pays  them  with  its 
gold  and  silver  and  honour  and  comforts  and 
pleasures,  and  these  are  all  it  can  give.  And  a 
poor  ( all '  it  is,  Mr.  Bond ;  it  cannot  ensure  health 
to  enjoy  it,  and  it  leaves  the  poor  servant  at  death. 
But  so  does  not  God  pay.  His  servants  get  peace 


116  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

— satisfying  peace  and  joy — here,  hope  in  death, 
and  oh  what  an  eternity !" 

He  was  much  moved,  and  Larry,  whose  mind 
had  been  somewhat  prepared  for  the  lesson,  heard 
it  with  much  conviction  of  its  truth. 

That  night  he  took  up  his  aunt's  Bible,  determined 
to  read  it  and  pray,  but  he  turned  the  pages,  not 
knowing  where  to  begin. 

"  At  the  beginning,"  at  last  he  said,  resolutely, 
"  and  I  will  read  it  through." 

So  he  began  at  the  beginning.  But  it  was  sore 
drudgery  to  him  night  after  night,  and  prayer  was 
a  still  more  onerous  burden. 

He  had,  however,  persevered  in  both  for  some 
months  without  perceiving  any  good  effect  from  it. 
One  day  the  person  who  now  acted  as  foreman  let 
fall  during  conversation  an  expression  of  a  very 
disrespectful  kind  toward  Christianity. 

Larry,  a  year  back,  would  have  passed  it  by, 
but  it  touched  him  now,  and  he  answered  with  a 
rebuke.  The  foreman  was  surprised,  but  sneered 
as  he  pretended  to  apologize. 

He  was  a  very  active  and  attentive  man,  and 
Larry  had  found  him  an  able  servant.  Of  his 
principles  he  was  ignorant  till  his  infidelity  thus 
displayed  itself. 


HOW  LARRY  BOND  GOT  ENOUGH.      117 

"  It  must  not  be,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  paced 
up  and  down  his  room.  "  I  will  not  keep  an  in- 
fidel in  the  house — I  dare  not."  And  he  carried 
out  his  determination,  for  he  found  that  this  man 
had  not  disguised  his  infidelity  from  the  young  men 
associated  with  him,  nor  the  servants  of  the  ware- 
house ;  and  although  he  was  a  most  valuable  and 
efficient  official,  he  dismissed  him.  The  younger 
Mr.  Page  rather  resisted  this  act,  but  the  elder  was 
with  Larry  when  he  stated  his  reasons  fully. 

From  this  time,  although  there  was  much  trouble 
and  additional  labour  to  him  from  the  difficulty  in 
meeting  with  a  satisfactory  foreman,  Larry  felt  a 
peace,  an  approach  to  happiness,  he  had  never 
known.  Slowly  the  truth  dawned  on  him  that  to 
live  to  God  was  wisdom  both  for  this  world  and  the 
next.  That  light  was  not  a  fitful  meteor  light ;  it 
was  the  dawn  of  day,  which  he  had  long  asked  for 
in  ignorance  and  weakness. 

The  result  of  this  act  of  faith  stimulated  him  to 
others.  He  exerted  himself  by  degrees  in  promot- 
ing the  spiritual  welfare  of  his  household,  and  at 
length  became  an  acknowledged  servant  of  God. 
He  had  the  satisfaction,  too,  of  leading  his  wife  to 
join  in  seeking  to  make  his  house  a  Christian, 
home. 


118  RICHES   WITHOUT  WIXGS. 

He  took  great  delight  in  advancing  Nichols,  to 
whom  he  thought  he  owed  the  first  movement  in 
his  new  and  happy  life.  But  Nichols,  when  his 
children  Avere  out  in  good  places  and  his  wife  and 
he  had  food  and  raiment  convenient,  could  not  think 
of  anything  more  he  wanted.  It  might  be,  if  he 
failed  in  health  as  he  grew  old  and  stopped  work, 
an  almshouse  would  be  useful,  but  the  Lord  would 
provide. 

What  a  truly  delightful  thought !  Almshouses  ! 
Larry  immediately  bought  ground  and  built  a  row 
of  pleasant  dwellings  for  aged  or  infirm  Christians, 
and  gave  the  promise  of  the  first  to  Nichols.  Love 
and  faith  expanded  with  their  exercise,  and  he 
realized  the  truth  of  the  missionary's  words.  Often 
he  called  those  words  to  mind,  and  did  not  fail  to 
write  to  tell  him  how  gracious  the  Lord  had  been 
— how  he  had  allowed  him,  after  he  had  given  his 
heart  for  so  many  years  to  the  world,  to  discover 
that  it  could  not  satisfy,  and  then  to  lay  himself  at 
his  feet  for  the  peace  which  could  nowhere  else  be 
found. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "  I  have  indeed  found  satisfying 
riches — a  portion  that  yields  me  full  content. 
When  I  was  living  to  myself,  I  went  on  and  on, 
and  the  more  I  gained  the  less  I  was  satisfied ;  but 


HOW  LARRY  BOND   GOT  ENOUGH.       119 

now  that  I  live  to  God  I  have  nothing  to  desire  but 
that  I  may  be  more  alive  to  the  happiness  of  my 
condition,  the  excellence  of  his  rewards  and  the 
riches  of  his  grace." 


THE   PENITENT   GAMBLER. 


jURING  the  leisure  of  my  college  vacations 
I  was  accustomed  to  devote  much  time  to 
visiting  the  sick  as  an  employment  calcu- 
e)  lated  to  prepare  me  for  pastoral  duties. 
And  I  now  look  back  upon  those  exercises  with 
much  satisfaction,  as  they  greatly  helped  me  to 
understand  the  diiferent  phases  of  human  nature, 
and  assisted  me  to  adapt  my  conversation  to  the 
diversity  of  character  with  which  I  became  ac- 
quainted. I  can  therefore  recommend  all  students 
preparing  for  the  work  of  the  ministry  to  devote 
as  much  time  as  they  possibly  can  spare  from  the 
study  of  books  to  the  deeper  study  of  humanity, 
as  they  may  find  it  in  the  sick  chamber  and  in  the 
abodes  of  ignorance  and  poverty. 

The  following  narrative  will  furnish  an  illustra- 
tion of  this  study.     A  friend  who  was  much  ab- 
sorbed in  his    professional  duties  as  a   physician 
120 


THE  PENITENT  GAMBLER.  121 

called  my  attention  to  a  case  which  had  come  un- 
der his  notice,  in  reference  to  which  he  said :  "  The 
man  is  sinking  beyond  the  power  of  medicine  to 
recover  him ;  but  a  little  Christian  sympathy  and 
instruction  may  do  him  more  good  than  all  the 
remedies  I  can  prescribe;  I  wish  you  would  put 
him  on  your  list  and  visit  him  as  often  as  you 
can." 

In  compliance  with  this  request,  I  went  to  Blue 
Anchor  alley,  Bunhill  Row,  and  after  numerous 
inquiries  found  out  my  friend's  patient  living  in  a 
solitary  room  on  the  first  floor  in  a  house  in  one  of 
the  closest  parts  of  that  thickly-populated  neigh- 
bourhood. 

The  physician  had  given  me  but  little  informa- 
tion respecting  his  patient,  except  that,  in  addition 
to  what  he  had  said  when  he  first  invited  me  to 
visit  him,  he  said  :  "  I  do  not  know  the  history  of 

Charles  L ;  but  I  have  a  powerful  impression 

it  will  be  found  painfully  interesting,  as  I  am  con- 
vinced, from  his  conversation  and  manner,  and  par- 
ticularly from  the  whole  character  and  deportment 
of  his  wife,  that  they  have  seen  better  days.  I  feel 
an  indescribable  interest  in  them,  and  therefore  I 
have  exceeded  the  ordinary  rules  of  dispensary 
practice  and  called  upon  them  several  times.  They 


122  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

fully  appreciate  any  kindness  that  is  shown  to 
them." 

On  entering  the  sick  man's  apartment,  a  scene 
of  neatness  and  cleanliness,  such  as  I  had  never 
before  witnessed  in  connection  with  so  much  pov- 
erty, met  my  eyes.  The  furniture  was  good  in 
quality,  and,  though  there  was  not  much  of  it, 
looked  as  if  it  once  had  had  a  better  home. 

Mrs.  L ,  who  had  opened  the  door  of  the 

sick  room  to  me,  stood  too  much  excited  to  speak, 
but  looked  inquiringly,  as  though  she  would  have 
asked,  "  Who  are  you,  and  what  is  your  errand  ?" 
I  told  her  that  I  came  at  the  request  of  Doctor 

C .  She  instantly  said  :  "  I  hope  the  doctor  is 

not  ill.  He  has  been  very  kind  to  us,  and  has 
never  before  sent  a  student  to  attend  to  my  hus- 
band." 

"  I  know  he  has  not,"  was  my  reply ;  "  but  if 
there  are  any  new  symptoms  since  the  doctor  was 
here,  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  make  them  known 
to  him  very  quickly,  and  especially  if  he  can  give 
any  new  prescription  that  will  afford  him  any  re- 
lief. However,  my  special  object  is  to  inquire 
what  can  be  done  for  the  soul  of  your  husband  ?" 

Though  these  few  words  had  been  pronounced 
in  undertones,  as  the  invalid  lay  motionless  in  his 


THE  PENITENT  GAMBLER.  123 

bed,  yet  no  sooner  did  the  words,  "  the  soul  of  your 
husband,"  escape  my  lips,  than  he  made  an  effort 
to  raise  his  head  from  his  pillow,  and  he  said  in 
feeble  but  emphatic  tones :  "  Jane,  Jane  dear,  God 
has  heard  your  prayers  for  me,  and  he  has  sent  his 
angel  to  instruct  and  guide  me.  Oh,  I  may  be 
saved  yet !" 

I  replied,  "  Christ  is  able  to  save  to  the  utter- 
most all  that  come  unto  God  by  him." 

"  I  fear  I  shall  be  an  exception,"  he  exclaimed  ; 
"  for  I  have  hardened  my  heart  in  sin,  that  now  I 
cannot  believe,  I  cannot  repent,  I  cannot  pray. 
That  dear  creature,"  pointing  to  his  wife,  "can 
pray,  and  does  pray  for  me,  though  I  have  been 
most  cruel  and  unkind  to  her.  She  has  forgiven 
me,  and  prays  for  me  as  if  I  had  been  the  kindest 
of  husbands.  But  she  only  knows — " 

His  excitement  overpowered  him.  He  wept 
bitterly. 

At  this  moment  I  noticed  an  elegant  but  much- 
worn  pocket-Bible,  which  had  been  partly  con- 
cealed under  a  fold  of  the  counterpane.  I  took  it 
and  read  several  detached  passages,  such  as,  u  God 
is  very  present  help  in  trouble;"  "When  my 
heart  is  overwhelmed,  lead  me  to  the  Rock 
that  is  higher  than  I."  After  a  few  min- 


124  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

utes  I  begged  him  to  try  to  compose  himself,  as  I 
wished  to  know  many  things  which  he  alone  could 
tell  me,  that  I  might  be  better  able  to  give  him 
suitable  instruction  and  to  pray  for  the  blessings 
he  most  needed. 

He  at  length  said  :  "  It  is  a  sad  tale.  I  cannot 
trust  myself  to  make  the  attempt.  Jane  will  tell 
it  you." 

I  told  him  I  was  anxious  only  to  know  the  state 
of  his  soul  in  relation  to  God  and  eternity. 

He  said,  "  I  am  a  wretched  sinner,  and  if  I  die 
as  I  am,  I  must  be  lost." 

I  said,  "  Conviction  is  the  Spirit's  first  step  to 
conversion  and  salvation." 

"I  have  sinned  against  light  and  knowledge, 
against  the  voice  of  conscience  and  the  warnings  of 
dearest  friends.  I  at  one  time  attended  an  evan- 
gelical ministry,  and  often  wept  while  listening  to 
the  preaching  of  my  pastor.  My  mother  often 
talked  to  me  about  the  salvation  of  my  soul,  and 
many  a  time  did  she  pray  when  alone  with  me.  I 
had  at  one  time  deep  emotions,  which  I  took  for 
signs  of  repentance;  they,  however,  soon  passed 
away.  Yet  I  thought  myself  religious,  and  others 
thought  so  too.  But,  alas !  I  was  the  worst  of 
hypocrites,  a  self-deceiver.  I  kept  up  the  outward 


THE  PENITENT  GAMBLER.  125 

appearance  of  religion.  Often,  very  often,  did 
Jane  and  I  read  that  book" — pointing  to  the 
pocket-Bible — "together,  before  and  after  our 
marriage." 

Here  he  fell  back  upon  his  pillow  quite  exhaust- 
ed with  the  effort  he  had  made.  Restoratives  were 
promptly  administered  by  his  affectionate  wife; 
and  when  he  recovered  he  said,  "  Dear  Jane,  you 
can  tell  the  rest." 

But  thinking  that  if  I  prolonged  my  visit  it 
would  be  attended  with  injurious  effects  upon  his 
weak  frame,  I  begged  that  the  sequel  might  be  left 
to  a  future  time.  In  this  both  the  invalid  and 
his  wife  acquiesced.  I  then  read  the  fifty-first 
Psalm,  prayed  earnestly  for  him,  bade  him  good- 
bye and  retired. 

On  my  second  visit  I  was  received  with  the 
warmth  and  cordiality  due  only  to  a  tried  and 
faithful  friend  of  many  years'  standing.  Charles 

L had  had  a  better  night  than  usual;  his 

cough  was  neither  so  frequent  nor  so  severe  as  it 
had  been.  He  had  been  more  free  from  dejection, 
languor  and  restlessness  during  the  last  two  nights 
and  days  than  he  had  been  since  he  took  to  his 
bed.  His  fond  wife  ascribed  this  pleasing  change 
to  the  fact  that  his  mind  had  been  relieved  from  a 


126  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

heavy  burden  through  the  exercise  of  faith  on  the 
blessed  Redeemer. 

A  bright  gleam  of  hope  of  future  recovery  came 
over  his  spirit,  and  he  said  :  "  I  think  God  intends 
to  raise  me  up  again  to  health,  that  I  may  have 
time  to  prove  my  faith  and  repentance  to  be  sin- 
cere. Should  he  spare  me  and  restore  me  to 
health,  '  then  will  I  teach  transgressors  thy  ways, 
and  sinners  shall  be  converted  unto  thee.' "  He 
suddenly  checked  himself,  and  said,  "  But  oh  this 
treacherous  heart  has  deceived  me  so  often  that, 
though  I  hope  to  get  well,  I  dread  exposure  to  the 
least  temptation." 

I  replied,  "Sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil 
thereof.  Our  times  are  in  the  hands  of  Him  who 
is  too  wise  to  err.  The  present  moment  alone  is 
ours,  and  upon  it  the  decisions  of  eternity  may 
depend.  Try  to  realize  a  present  Saviour,  and  to 
live  the  life  of  faith  on  him.  This  alone  can  pre- 
pare the  soul  for  the  solemn  change,  or  strengthen 
it  to  grapple  with  the  temptations  of  our  earthly 
sojourn." 

"  Ah,"  he  exclaimed,  "  it  has  been  for  the  want 
of  that  faith  that  I  have  been  tossed  like  a  vessel 
without  rudder,  compass  or  anchor.  It  has  been  a 
short  but  a  perilous  voyage.  All  shoals  and  no 


THE  PENITENT  GAMBLER.  127 

harbour.  And  so  you,  sir,  will  say  when  Jane 
tells  you  all." 

I  replied  :  "  It  is  a  great  and  unspeakable  mercy 
that  God  has  made  known  to  us  a  refuge  in  Christ 
where  we  may  be  safe  here,  and  a  haven  of  eternal 
rest  beyond  the  grave." 

Observing  the  cheek  of  the  invalid  reddening 
with  the  hectic  flush,  I  turned  to  his  wife  and  said 
that  if  she  wished  to  relate  any  of  the  circum- 
stances of  their  former  history,  to  which  references 
had  been  made,  perhaps  the  present  would  be  a 
suitable  time,  especially  as  it  would  allow  her  hus- 
band time  to  rest  from  the  exertion  of  speaking. 

With  much  confusion  of  face  and  a  hurried 
glance  at  her  husband,  she  said,  "  I  would  gladly 
spare  your  feelings,  sir,  and  my  own;  but  as 
Charles  wishes  it,  and  I  know  he  will  be  happier 
when  you  know  all,  I  will  do  my  best  to  give  a 
true  though  hurried  sketch.  It  is  only  five  years 
this  month  that  we  were  married.  Charles  was 
twenty-two,  and  I  nineteen.  Our  parents  were 
very  consistent  Christians.  At  our  wedding  we 
shared  in  their  earnest  prayers  for  our  prosperity. 
And  during  the  first  eight  months  our  enjoyment 
of  health,  success  in  business,  mutual  affection  and 
friendly  kindnesses  seemed  to  be  answers  to  their 


128  EICIIES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

prayers.  Up  to  that  time  we  regularly  observed 
the  form  of  domestic  worship,  morning  and  even- 
ing. This,  however,  soon  after  was  allowed  to  fall 
into  great  irregularity,  and  eventually  was  entirely 
abandoned.  From  that  we  date  our  misfortunes. 

"  In  the  summer  evenings  we  were  accustomed 
to  walk  together  in  Hyde  Park.  One  evening, 
not  feeling  well,  I  persuaded  Charles  to  go  for  his 
usual  walk  without  me.  He  went.  He  did  not 
return  till  a  late  hour.  He  came  home  and  appear- 
ed quite  unconscious  of  the  time,  and  began,  with 
great  cheerfulness,  to  tell  me  that  he  had  met  with 
an  old  schoolfellow,  and  that  he  had  put  him  in 
the  way  to  realize  twenty-five  pounds.  At  first  I 
had  no  idea  of  the  means  by  which  he  had  gained 
the  amount,  but  supposed  he  alluded  to  some  busi- 
ness transaction.  I  cannot  describe  the  horrible 
sensations  I  experienced,  though  I  did  all  in  my 
power  to  conceal  them,  when  he  told  me  '  he  had 
won  the  money  at  a  game  or  two.'  With  as  much 
composure  as  I  could  command  I  earnestly  and 
affectionately  begged  him  to  avoid  such  tempta- 
tions in  the  future,  but  could  not  succeed  in 
obtaining  a  promise  that  he  would  comply  with 
my  wishes.  However,  about  six  weeks  passed 
away,  and  I  began  to  hope  that  he  had  seen  his 


THE  PENITENT  GAMBLER.  129 

error  and  abandoned  the  gambling-house.  This 
hope  was  at  once  destroyed  by  his  returning  home 
one  night,  flushed  with  excitement,  when  he  laid 
upon  the  table  a  handful  of  sovereigns,  saying, 
'  There,  dear  Jane,  are  they  not  worth  winning  ?' 
I  could  not  restrain  my  feelings  on  this  occasion, 
but  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears,  and  said,  '  Dear, 
dear  Charles,  what  will  it  profit  you  if  you  gain 
the  whole  world  and  lose  your  own  soul  ?' " 

Mrs.  L was  about  to  proceed  when  her  hus- 
band interrupted  her,  by  saying,  "But,  my  dear 
Jane,  how  did  I  treat  your  kind  remonstrances  ? 
Did  I  not  say,  in  a  very  pettish  manner,  '  My  soul 
will  be  neither  better  nor  worse  for  a  few  innocent 
games?'"  "Oh  yes,  dear  Charles,  I  recollect  you 
did,  though  I  had  forgotten  it.  The  next  day  we 
had  a  long  discussion  on  gambling,  which  ended  in 
angry  words  on  both  sides.  I  was,  however,  agree- 
ably surprised  to  find  that  nearly  two  months  passed 
away  in  comparative  comfort,  and  I  again  began 
to  hope  that  I  should  hear  no  more  of  gambling. 
Business  had  been  more  than  usually  brisk  and  re- 
munerative; we  appeared  happy,  prospects  seemed 
to  brighten,  and  Charles  promised  to  make  me  a 
present  of  a  new  dress  and  an  elegant  set  of  furs 
for  the  approaching  winter.  These  bright  days 


130  EICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

were  of  short  duration  ;  and  one  night,  after  sitting 
up  till  two  o'clock,  I  retired  to  my  bed-room,  and 
after  lying  down  for  more  than  an  hour  I  heard 
his  knock  and  opened  the  street  door,  for  I  had 
sent  the  servants  to  bed  at  their  usual  time.  I  no 
sooner  saw  him  than  I  trembled  with  an  agitation 
I  cannot  describe,  for  I  had  never  seen  him  intox- 
icated before,  and  as  he  staggered  into  the  passage 
I  feared  he  would  injure  me.  Instead  of  this,  he 
quietly  muttered,  '  I  must  go  to  bed,  Jane/  and  he 
uttered  not  another  word,  but  fell  asleep  as  soon  as 
he  reached  his  bed-room.  In  a  state  of  comparative 
torpor  he  remained  till  eleven  o'clock  in  the  day, 
when  he  came  down-stairs  and  did  little  else  but 
weep  and  sigh.  About  one  o'clock  that  day  a 
shabby  genteel-looking  man  came  into  the  shop 
and  inquired  for  Charles.  He  was  told  by  the 

shopman  that  Mr.  L was  too  ill  to  see  any  one. 

The  stranger  said,  '  I  must  see  Mr.  L ,  and  will 

not  leave  the  house  till  I  do.' " 

The  narrative  was  here  interrupted  by  the  an- 
nouncement of  Dr.  C .     When  he  left  I  read 

part  of  the  third  chapter  of  St.  John's  Gospel,  and 
part  of  the  thirty-fifth  chapter  of  Ezekiel.  Perceiv- 
ing the  sick  man  had  suffered  great  mental  agony 
luring  the  recital  of  this  portion  of  his  history,  I 


THE  PENITENT  GAMBLER.  131 

commended  him  in  prayer  to  that  Saviour  whose 
blood  cleanseth  from  all  sins,  and  took  leave  of  him 
for  the  present. 

On  my  third  visit,  after  a  few  inquiries  relating 
to  the  body  and  the  mind  of  the  sick  man,  and 
finding  that  as  a  humble  penitent  he  was  praying, 
"Lord,  I  believe,  help  thou  mine  unbelief/'  I 

turned  to  Mrs.  L and  asked  her  to  continue 

her  narrative. 

Drawing   her   hand   across  her  forehead,   Mrs. 

L answered,  "  I  almost  forget  how  far  I  had 

got  in  my  dismal  story."  I  took  out  my  note- 
book and  told  her  that  I  had  felt  so  much  interest 
in  her  tale  that  I  had  taken  a  few  notes,  and  that 
she  left  off  telling  me  of  the  man  who  came  to  the 
house  and  would  not  leave  it  until  he  had  seen  her 
husband. 

"Ah!"  she  said,  "I  wish  I  could  forget  that 
day ;  it  was  the  first  of  intense  misery  I  had  ever 
known ;  but  to  proceed.  On  hearing  the  determi- 
nation of  that  man,  dear  Charles  rose  and  said,  '  I 
must  see  him.'  I  observed  that  as  Charles  left  the 
parlour  he  took  the  cash-box  with  him.  My  fears 
were  then  awakened,  and  a  heavy  gloom  came  over 
my  spirit.  It  was  a  long  time  before  he  came  back 


132  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

to  the  parlour.  When  he  returned  he  told  me  that 
the  stranger  had  detained  him  because  he  would 
not  leave  till  every  demand  was  satisfied,  and  to  do 
this  he  had  sent  to  borrow  a  few  pounds  of  a  neigh- 
bour. He  then  said,  'I  have  only  six  shillings 
left.  I  was  unlucky  last  night,  and  lost  more  than 
I  have  ever  won/  I  then  said,  '  Perhaps  this  loss 
is  the  best  thing  that  could  happen  to  you,  as  it 
will  convince  you  that  gambling  must  lead  to  ruin/ 
I  endeavoured  to  extort  from  him  a  promise  that 
he  would  never  go  near  the  gambling-house." 

Mr.  L interposed  at  this  part  of  the  narrative 

and  said,  "  But,  dear  Jane,  I  cannot  forget  that  you 
then  said  you  would  cheerfully  relieve  me  of  my 
promise  to  purchase  the  new  dress  and  set  of  furs, 
and  do  all  in  your  power  to  economize  and  recover 
our  position.  I  was  infatuated,  and  madly  hoped 
that  I  might  be  more  lucky  another  time.  I  took 
undue  advantage  of  your  gentleness."  He  could 
proceed  no  farther ;  he  wept. 

Mrs.  L resumed.  "  That  day  I  went  to  my 

father  and  borrowed  twenty  pounds  for  present 
emergencies.  The  progress  of  our  ruin  from  that 
time  was  very  rapid.  Only  four  days  after  that  we 
sustained  another  loss  from  the  same  cause.  Losses 
appeared  to  make  Charles  more  reckless  than  ever, 


THE  PENITENT  GAMBLER.  133 

until  on  one  occasion  the  whole  of  the  stock  was 
lost  at  a  throw.  My  beloved  father  then  kindly 
came  forward  and  compounded  with  the  winner, 
so  as  to  prevent  the  removal  of  a  single  article 
from  the  shop.  But  having  done  this,  he  said 
in  justice  to  his  other  children  he  would  do  no 
more.  About  another  year  passed  away  in  the  same 
way  as  the  last  few  months,  when,  through  losses 
of  property  and  the  entire  failure  of  Charles' 
health,  we  were  obliged  to  leave  our  house  in  Ox- 
ford street,  having  nothing  for  our  support  but  the 
sum  for  which  the  business  was  sold,  and  a  small 
annual  amount,  the  proceeds  of  some  funded  prop- 
erty, the  principal  of  which  could  not  be  touched. 
We  took  lodgings  in  Hart  street,  Bloomsbury,  had 
the  advice  of  eminent  physicians  and  took  journeys, 
and  remained  at  Cheltenham  and  Hastings  for  a 
few  weeks.  Our  available  stock  of  cash  was  very 
nearly  exhausted,  when,  finding  it  impossible  to 
maintain  our  former  appearances,  and  too  proud  to 
be  under  the  observation  of  those  who  knew  us  in 
better  circumstances,  we  sought  the  seclusion  of 
this  humble  retreat." 

Mrs.  L hid  her  face  in  her  handkerchief 

and  yielded  to  a  paroxysm  of  emotion  and  wept. 
As  soon  as  she  recovered  she  turned  to  me  and 


134  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

said,  "Pardon  these  tears;  I  hope  they  are  not 
signs  of  rebellion,  for  with  all  our  sufferings  the 
Lord  has  brought  us  to  acknowledge 

'  His  strokes  are  fewer  than  our  crimes, 
And  lighter  than  our  guilt.' 

I  am  sure  that  is  your  feeling,  Charles,  and  it  is 
mine." 

"Ah,  Jane,"  replied  Mr.  L ,  "it  is,  but  I 

have  been  the  guilty  cause  of  all;  and  I  want 
words  to  express  my  wonder  at  the  mercy  of  God 
in  sparing  me,  that  I  may  repent  and  believe  in 
Him  whose  blood  cleanseth  from  all  sin — cleanseth 
from  all  sin." 

As  he  repeated  the  last  four  words,  I  said,  "  Yes, 
this  is  a  provision  worthy  of  God,  who  delights  to 
pardon,  and  yet  tells  us  that  without  shedding  of 
blood  there  is  no  remission.  He  provides  Christ 
as  the  atoning  Lamb." 

"  It  is  wondrous  love,"  lie  exclaimed,  "  that  God 
did  not  leave  sinners  to  perish ;  it  is  wondrous  that 
he  did  not  cut  me  down,  for  my  sins  were  against 
the  knowledge  I  received  in  my  early  childhood. 
Had  he  not  afflicted  me  and  kept  the  rod  applied, 
my  soul  must  have  been  lost.  I  often  repeated 
a  verse  which  I  think  I  now  understand:  it  is 
this: 


THE  PENITENT  GAMBLER.  135 

'  Jesus  sought  me  when  a  stranger, 

Wandering  from  the  fold  of  God  ; 
lie,  to  rescue  me  from  danger, 
Interposed  his  precious  blood.' " 

Perceiving;  si<rns  of  exhaustion  in  Mr.  L ,  I 


read  parts  of  the  fortieth  Psalm  and  parts  of  the 
second  chapter  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians,  in- 
terspersed with  a  few  remarks,  offered  prayer  and 
left. 

Two  days  after,  very  early  in  the  morning,  a  boy 

came  bringing  a  note  from  Mrs.  L ,  begging 

that  I  would  come  as  early  as  I  possibly  could. 

From  the  earnest  terms  of  the  note  I  hasted 
to  this  chamber  of  affliction,  where  I  expected  to 
see  the  patient  in  the  last  struggle.  To  my  sur- 
prise, he  was  sitting  up  in  his  bed,  his  cheek 
greatly  flushed,  his  eye  beaming  with  unusual 
brightness  as  it  flashed  upon  me  on  entering  the 
room,  and  his  voice  deeper  and  louder  than  I  had 
ever  heard  it.  He  said,  "  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  I 
want  your  advice  very  much.  I  have  not  only 
grievously  sinned  myself,  but  I  have  led  others  into 
sin.  I  want  to  warn  them.  I  have  written  a  let- 
ter with  dear  Jane's  help.  I  want  you  to  hear  it 

and  improve  it  for  me."  Mrs.  L then  read 

the  following  letter : 


136  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

"  DEAR  P : 

"  You  have  not  forgotten  L .     You  know  in 

what  style  I  lived.  I  have  lost  all — ruined  myself 
and  my  dear  wife — an  outcast  from  my  family.  I 

first  led  you  to  C 's.     There  my  misery  began. 

Shun  such  places  if  you  would  escape  hell.  I  am 
now  dying  in  an  obscure  part  of  London.  I  want 
to  spare  you  the  agonies  I  now  suffer.  The  dice 
were  mischievous,  but  you  know  the  other  sins  and 
vices  we  committed.  Keep  to  your  homes,  your 
wives  and  your  Bibles.  This  is  my  dying  effort. 
"  Yours  faithfully, 

"  CHARLES  L ." 

A  copy  of  this  letter  was  sent  to  four  of  his 
companions. 

Mr.  L said,  "  May  I  beg  you  to  warn  young 

men  against  the  vices  of  betting  and  gambling? 
You  have  heard  my  career  of  sin,  so  that  you  may 
form  an  idea  how  deeply  I  had  fallen.  Let  me 
beg  that  you  will  make  use  of  my  case  at  any  time 
and  in  any  way,  so  that  you  do  not  injure  the  feel- 
ings of  my  innocent  relatives.  I  can  confide  in 
your  professional  honour.  I  never  heard  gambling 
denounced  from  the  pulpit.  I  knew  it  was  wrong, 
and  yet  I  persevered." 


THE  PENITENT  GAMBLER.  137 

"  You  needed,"  I  said,  "  the  hand  of  God  to  be 
laid  upon  you  to  arrest  you  in  your  course  of  sin, 
and  he  has  done  it." 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "  I  believe  he  has  changed 
my  heart;  and  if  he  should  raise  me  up  to  health, 
I  hope  his  Spirit  would  help  me  to  warn  others  and 
to  tell  them  of  God's  forgiving  love  in  Christ. 
Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  who  forgiveth  all  thine 
iniquities." 

His  excitement  at  this  time  was  greater  than  on 
any  former  occasion.  It  was  with  difficulty  that 
he  was  induced  to  be  quiet,  until  I  said,  "  I  fear  I 
shall  do  you  harm  by  remaining  longer,  as  I  keep 
you  talking  so  much." 

He  meekly  said,  "  You  will  read  and  pray  first, 
won't  you  ?  It  always  refreshes  me  and  comforts 
poor  dear  Jane." 

I  read  Scripture  portions  from  the  hundred  and 
third  Psalm  and  the  fifty-fifth  chapter  of  Isaiah, 
prayed  and  retired. 

In  threading  my  way  through  the  labyrinth  of 
courts  and  alleys,  and  thinking  of  what  had  tran- 
spired in  that  chamber,  my  sad  experience  in  wit- 
nessing many  pneumonic  cases,  seconded  probably 
by  a  higher  influence,  impressed  my  mind  with 
these  words,  "Once  more,  once  more,  only  once 


138  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

more,"  as  though  a  spirit  uttered  them  to  my  in- 
most soul.  It  mattered  not  what  else  claimed  my 
attention,  whether  reading  or  conversation,  whether 
in  company  or  alone,  these  words  had  a  fast  hold 
on  my  spirit,  and  seemed  to  be  constantly  repeated, 
so  that  when  I  retired  to  my  bed  I  could  not  sleep 
for  the  ringing  of  these  words  in  my  ears. 

I  had  told  my  friend  and  guardian,  with  whom 
I  was  living,  "  not  to  be  surprised  if,  when  he  came 
down  to  breakfast,  he  should  find  me  off  to  my 
patient,"  and  assigned  as  my  reason  "that  there 
seemed  to  be  a  spirit  haunting  me  all  day  saying, 
'  Once  more,  once  more,  only  once  more/  " 

This  elicited  no  small  amount  of  bantering 
about  "  nervous  excitement,  functional  derangement 
of  the  liver,  superstition  and  the  folly  of  allowing 
the  mind  to  be  the  vassal  of  an  impression." 

However,  at  daybreak  I  arose,  took  a  slight  re- 
freshment and  went  to  the  house  of  the  sick  man. 
The  candle  was  burning  in  the  chamber.  I  gently 
knocked  at  the  street  door,  which  was  quickly 

opened  by  Mrs.  F ,  a  married  sister  of  Mrs. 

L ,  who  had  sat  up  the  whole  night  to  assist  in 

attending  on  the  dying  man.  I  apologized  for 
coming  at  such  an  early  hour,  saying,  "I  was 
uneasy  until  I  came."  "  How  singular !"  exclaim- 


THE  PENITENT  GAMBLER.  139 

ed  Mrs.  F ;  "  brother  Charles  has  frequently 

said  in  the  night  he  was  sure  you  would  come 
very  early." 

As  I  entered  the  room,  Mr.  L caught  my 

eye  and  said,  "  Once  more,  only  once  more  shall 
we,  dear  sir,  worship  together  on  earth.  The  con- 
flict is  sharp,  but  it  will  soon  be  over.  Christ  is 
with  me.  He  has  forgiven  me.  His  Spirit  keeps 
my  hold  on  him.  Pray  for  me,  do  pray  for  me, 
that  the  Spirit  may  not  leave  me.  Pray  for  my 
precious  wife." 

I  repeated  the  twenty-third  Psalm  and  the  first 
three  verses  of  2  Cor.  chap,  v.,  and  then  prayed 
with  him.  When  we  rose  from  our  knees  he  was 
lying  perfectly  calm,  and  breathing  so  feebly  that 
we  should  have  thought  his  spirit  had  taken  its 
flight  had  not  his  lips  moved.  He  presently 
opened  his  eyes  and  stretched  his  hand  toward  me, 
grasped  mine,  and,  in  a  tone  scarcely  audible,  said, 
"  Thank  you,  my  dear  sir,  for  all  your  instructions 
and  prayers.  The  Lord  bless  you  !" 

From  this  moment  he  appeared  to  be  rapidly 
sinking.  As  we  leaned  over  him,  repeating  some 
portions  of  holy  writ,  he  was  heard  to  say,  "  Won- 
derful grace" — "  Precious  Christ" — "  Forgiveness" 
— "  Cleanseth  from  all  sin."  "  From  all  sin"  were 


140  RICHES  WITHOUT  WJNOS. 

the  last  words  he  uttered.  About  half-past  tea 
o'clock  that  morning  his  spirit  took  its  flight. 

This  painful  but  true  narrative  will  illustrate 
the  infatuating  power  of  sin,  the  present  miseries  a 
sinful  course  entails,  and  the  amazing  riches  of  sov- 
ereign grace  in  changing  the  heart  and  granting  an 
assurance  of  pardon  through  the  blood  of  Christ. 

I  have  no  doubt  on  my  own  mind  that  Mr.  L 

was  a  believing,  repentant  applicant  to  the  Saviour, 
and  that  he  obtained  mercy.  It  was  an  affecting 
scene  to  behold  a  young  man,  having  wasted  a  for- 
tune, wellnigh  ruined  his  soul,  bowed  down  the 
spirit  of  a  lovely  and  loving  wife,  and  destroyed  a 
fine  physical  constitution  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
seven.  The  incident  loudly  calls  upon  young  men 
to  resist  the  first  temptations  to  depart  from  the 
path  of  virtue. 


THE  ODD  FIFTEEN. 


EN  —  fifteen  —  twenty  —  and  seven  —  and  three 
—  thirty.  Yes,  there  it  is,  complete  ;  quite 
complete."  Mr.  Carbury  pored  over  the 
page  which  he  had  been  adding  up  with  a 
look  of  tranquil  satisfaction  —  nay  more,  with  a 
fondness  that  made  it  difficult  to  turn  away  from 
it  ;  so  fascinated  was  he  that  he  was  proceeding  to 
add  up  once  more  the  figures  whose  sum  had  so 
charmed  him,  not  from  any  doubt  of  his  accuracy, 
but  to  prolong  the  gratifying  effect  they  had  pro- 
duced. Before  he  had  counted  up  many  hundreds 
he  was  interrupted  by  a  smart  rap  at  the  door. 

"Seven  hundred  and  fifteen  —  who's  there?"  he 
cried  impatiently. 

"  A  friend,"  answered  a  chirpy  voice.  "  Shall  I 
come  in  ?"  And  at  the  same  instant  a  gentleman 
somewhat  in  years  introduced  himself,  and  closing 
the  door,  advanced  toward  the  fire,  taking  the 
answer  for  granted. 

141 


142  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

"  What  a  man  you  are  for  business  1"  he  cried, 
rubbing  his  hands  and  warming  them  at  the  fire. 
"  I've  been  to  your  house  and  told  your  wife  that 
she  ought  to  make  you  keep  better  hours." 

"Very  fine!"  said  Mr.  Carbury,  keeping  his 
finger  on  the  number  at  which  he  had  arrived ; 
"people  like  you,  who  have  nothing  to  do,  may 
talk  so,  but  not  men  of  business." 

"Nothing  to  do!"  said  the  stranger,  fixing  his 
bright  eyes  on  the  merchant ;  "  why,  if  I  did  it  all 
there  wouldn't  be  a  man  in  London  that  would 
carry  on  the  business  that  I  should." 

"  Why,  what  have  you  to  do  ?"  said  Mr.  Car- 
bury,  seeing  uneasily  that  the  intruder  had  laid 
down  his  hat  and  gloves,  taken  off  his  comforter, 
unbuttoned  his  coat  and  put  his  feet  on  the  fender. 

"  What  ?"  was  the  reply ;  "  why,  anything  and 
everything." 

"  And  who's  your  employer  ?"  said  Mr.  Carbury, 
taking  a  pinch  of  snuff  from  the  proffered  snuff- 
box with  his  left  hand  and  no  very  good  grace. 

"  Anybody  and  everybody  that  wants  me — that's 
the  company  I  am  foreman  to ;  so  if  my  work 
doesn't  beat  yours  my  name  isn't  Jacob  Hart." 

"  You  are  always  full  of  your  nonsense,"  said 
Mr.  Carbury,  who  was  even  more  annoyed  at  what 


THE  ODD  FIFTEEN.  143 

he  feared  might  be  the  purport  of  the  visit  than  at 
the  interruption;  "but  the  truth  is/'  he  continued, 
"  I  really  am  particularly  engaged  to-night,  and — 
and — as  you  say,  my  wife  expects  me — and — " 

"  And,"  said  Mr.  Hart,  "  you'd  like  me  to  cut  the 
matter  short,  I  see.  Now,  there's  the  beauty  of 
dealing  with  a  man  of  business ;  you  see  I  take 
you  at  once,  and  if  you're  only  as  prompt  as  I  am, 
I'll  be  off  in  five  minutes." 

Mr.  Carbury's  face  grew  dark ;  he  screwed  up 
his  mouth,  and  was  evidently  entrenching  himself 
behind  a  premeditated  flat  denial. 

In  the  mean  time,  Mr.  Hart,  tapping  his  box  and 
crossing  his  legs,  having  offered  the  merchant  an- 
other pinch,  which  was  silently  declined,  fearlessly 
commenced  his  attack:  "That's  your  credit-book, 
isn't  it,  or  cash-book,  or  whatever  you  call  it,  con- 
taining your  own  assets  ?" 

Mr.  Carbury  looked  indignantly  surprised  at  the 
question. 

"  I  guessed  it  from  the  expression  of  your  coun- 
tenance before  I  came  in." 

Again  Mr.  Carbury  looked  surprised. 

"Well,  the  truth  is,"  said  Mr.  Hart,  answering 
the  look,  "  the  door  being  ajar,  before  I  knocked  I 
peeped  in  to  see  if  any  one  were  with  you,  and  I'm 


141  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

sure,  friend  Carbury,  you  looked  too  happy  to  be 
counting  up  anything  but  net  proceeds." 

"  I  wonder,  as  you  saw  that  I  was  so  engaged, 
that  you  interrupted  me,"  said  the  merchant, 
gruffly. 

"Oh,  never  mind;  I  see  you've  kept  your  finger 
on  the  place,  and  you'd  got  to  seven  hundred  and 
fifteen ;  now  the  minute  I'm  gone,  you  can  begin 
again  with  seven  hundred." 

Mr.  Carbury's  face  exhibited  pure  astonishment. 

"Ha,  ha!"  said  his  companion,  "I  knew  you'd 
stare;  but  I'm  in  serious  earnest,  and  though  I  was 
in  bed  yesterday  with  lumbago,  and  the  doctor 
warned  me  not  to  go  out  in  this  north-east  wind, 
yet  so  pressing  was  the  case  that  here  I  am ;  and 
I'm  sure  you  won't  let  your  old  friend  run  such  a 
risk  for  nothing." 

"You're  an  incorrigible  beggar,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
bury.  "I  really  have  nothing  to  spare." 

"  Nothing  that  you  will  spare,"  said  Mr.  Hart — 
"plenty  that  you  could — that  fifteen  pounds,  for  in- 
stance, you  want  no  more  than  the  man  in  the 
moon,  and  if  you're  a  wise  man  you'll  hand  it 
over." 

"  You  must  think  money  very  easily  got,"  said 
Mr.  Carbury,  angrily,  "  to  suppose  that  I  should 


THE  ODD  FIFTEEN.  145 

part  with   such    a  sum   without    any   rhyme   or 
reason." 

"I  can't  say  much  about  rhyme"  said  Mr.  Hart; 
"  but  reason  I  can  give  you  plenty.  Dick  Smedley 
is  in  trouble,  his  wife  is  ill,  his  children  are  scat- 
tered to  the  four  winds." 

"  Dick  Smedley !"  said  the  merchant,  in  disgust. 
"  I'm  sick  of  the  name;  what  claim  has  he  on  me  ?" 

"Many,"  said  Mr.  Hart,  in  a  subdued  voice, 
after  a  short  pause ;  "  but  I  will  give  you  only  one  : 
we  were  all  close  friends  in  boyhood,  and  at  that 
time  Smedley's  home  was  yours." 

"  Pooh,  nonsense !"  said  Mr.  Carbury ;  "  I'm  sure 
I've  paid  back  whatever  I  owed  on  that  score ;  and 
as  to  the  friendship  of  boys,  what  sort  of  a  tie  is 
that?  I've  known  nothing  of  Sraedley  ever  since 
— ever  since — " 

"Ever  since  he  grew  poor,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Hart,  "and  borrowed  money,  which,  however,  he 
paid  again." 

"  Yes,  and  a  deal  of  trouble  I  had  to  get  it." 

"Served  you  right  if  you'd  had  ten  times  more," 
said  Mr.  Hart,  putting  his  hands  on  his  knees  and 
looking  steadily  into  the  fire. 

"I  should  like  to  know  why?"  said  the  mer- 
chant, incensed. 
10 


146  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

"  Should  you  ?  Then  I'll  tell  you  why  :  he  wanted 
the  money  and  you  didn't." 

"Keally,  Mr.  Hart,"  said  Mr.  Carbury,  rising, 
"I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand  what  right  you 
have—" 

"  Sit  down,  John  Carbury,  sit  down,  and  call  me 
Jacob,  and  not  Mr.  Hart,  and  I'll  satisfy  you  on 
that  point  too.  I  have  a  right  to  do  it,  because  I 
love  you  and  want  to  do  you  good — because  I  am 
your  friend  and  am  interested  in  your  interests.  I 
tell  you,  John,  that  early  friendship  is  not  a  rope 
of  sand  with  me,  and  if  you  can  forget  those  days 
when  you  and  I  and  poor  Dick  stood  by  the  fish- 
pond on  his  father's  lawn,  and  he  went  in  head 
over  heels  to  fetch  you  out  because  you  had  tipped 
over  from  the  rockery  and  were  nearly  drowned, 
I  don't.  No,  nor  I  don't  forget  how  he  was  the 
first  to  help  us  out  of  our  troubles,  and  to  buy 
pleasures  for  us  with  his  pocket-money ;  and  I  re- 
member a  certain  orphan  boy  that  would  have  had 
but  a  solitary  holiday  in  the  old  school-house  if 
Dick  Smedley  had  not  carried  him  off  in  triumph 
to  his  pleasant  home." 

The  merchant  shaded  his  face  with  his  hand. 

"Come,  Jack,"  said  Mr.  Hart,  "give  me  the 
fifteen  pounds;  with  what  I  have  collected  and 


THE  ODD  FIFTEEN.  147 

what  I  can  spare  myself,  it  will  about  make  up  the 
sum." 

Mr.  Carbury  didn't  answer;  Mr.  Hart  looked 
steadily  at  him  for  a  few  seconds,  then  proceeded 
to  button  his  coat,  adjust  his  comforter  and  take 
his  hat,  stick  and  gloves.  When  these  preparations 
were  over,  he  said  in  a  calm  voice,  in  which  firm- 
ness and  tenderness  were  mingled,  "  Now,  friend 
John,  those  fifteen  pounds ;  the  night  wears,  and  I 
want  to  settle  the  affair  before  I  go  to  bed." 

Mr.  Carbury  shook  his  head  and  looked  in  an- 
other direction. 

"  You  won't  ?"  said  Mr.  Hart — "  you  reaUy  won't  ? 
Then  all  I  can  say,  John  Carbury,  is,  I  am  very 
sorry  for  you ;"  and  with  some  emotion  he  advanced 
to  the  door.  "  Dick  won't  be  the  loser,"  he  said ; 
"  believe  me,  it  was  more  for  your  sake  than  his  I 
came  to  you." 

"  Stop !"  said  Mr.  Carbury,  as  the  door  had 
nearly  closed  behind  his  visitor.  "  I  didn't  say  I 
would  not  give  anything ;  you  can't  expect  a  man 
who  has  worked  hard  for  everything  he  has  to  lay 
down  such  a  sum  at  a  moment's  notice ;  you  know 
nothing  of  the  vicissitudes  of  business ;  you  have 
no  family  dependent  on  you." 

"We   won't    compare   notes,"   said   Mr.   Hart, 


148  KICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

•whose  self-denying  and  universal  philanthropy 
was  well  known ;  "  you  know  that  your  realized 
property  beyond  the  chances  of  your  business  is 
already  enough  to  provide  for  your  family — every- 
body knows  it,  and  I  know  it;  and  the  pittance 
that  I  asked  of  you  wouldn't  be  the  weight  of  a 
straw  in  your  balance." 

The  merchant  slowly  took  up  a  cheque-book  and 
dipped  his  pen  into  the  ink.  Seeing  the  motion, 
Mr.  Hart  again  advanced  toward  him. 

"Whose  name?"  said  Mr.  Carbury,  sullenly, 
not  looking  up. 

"  I  wish  I  could  say,"  Mr.  Hart  replied,  rever- 
ently, "  in  the  name  of  God,  and  feel  that  it  was 
the  free  gift  of  love  from  one  of  his  people  to  help 
another." 

"  His  people  !"  said  Mr.  Carbury,  peevishly.  "  I 
tell  you  what,  Jacob,  you  don't  go  the  way  to  con- 
vert me  to  your  way  of  thinking  by  the  way  you 
go  on." 

"How  do  you  mean?"  said  Mr.  Hart,  quickly. 

"  Why,  you're  always  coming  to  me  for  some 
Christian  in  trouble;  it  appears  to  me  that  you 
Christians  are  always  in  trouble." 

"I  don't  think  so,"  said  Mr.  Hart. 

"  Oh  yes !     There's  your  favourite  preacher,  Mr. 


THE  ODD  FIFTEEN.  149 

Goodman,  is  for  ever  telling  us  'that  we  must 
through  much  tribulation  enter  into  the  kingdom/ 
and  that  l  man  is  born  to  trouble/  and  so  forth.  I 
confess  it  seems  to  me  that  what  you  call  the  world 
has  the  best  of  it  by  a  good  deal." 

"  So  ho !"  said  Mr.  Hart ;  "  stop  there.  If  you 
were  to  make  such  a  mistake  as  that  in  your  ledger, 
I  think  you'd  want  me  for  a  clerk  to  come  and 
help  you." 

"Well,  I  only  know  that  I'm  always  meeting 
with  cases  of  'afflicted  Christians/  as  they  call 
themselves." 

"  No  doubt ;  and  there  are  many  more  that  you 
never  met  with ;  but  what  of  that  ?  Do  you  know 
the  origin  of  all  suffering  and  affliction  ?" 

"  Improvidence  and  idleness,"  said  the  merchant. 

"  Pooh  !  pooh  !  you've  taken  one  of  the  streams 
for  the  fountain-head,  man,"  said  Mr.  Hart,  with 
great  animation.  "  Sin,  sin  is  the  cause  of  all  suf- 
fering :  no  sooner  did  man  become  a  sinner  than 
he  became  a  sufferer ;  and  as  all  men  are  born  into 
the  world  sinners,  so  all  are  born  liable  to  suffer- 
ing, and  all  do  suffer  more  or  less — not  Christians 
only,  but  every  child  of  Adam." 

The  merchant  looked  thoughtful. 

"  You,  for  instance/'  said  Mr.  Hart,  "  although 


150  RICHES  WITHOUT   WINGS. 

you  are  rich,  have  had  your  troubles;  you  had 
them  in  your  youth,  and  you  carry  about  with  you 
the  seeds  of  a  disease  which  often  embitters  your 
life,  and  will  ultimately  end  it — you've  often  told 
me  so ;  yet  you  scorn  to  belong  to  what  you  call 
Christians." 

"  Well,  then,  I  suppose  we  are  all  in  the  same 
case,"  said  the  merchant,  proceeding  to  write  the 
cheque,  as  if  willing  to  close  the  discussion. 

"  By  no  means,  so  don't  believe  it,"  said  Mr. 
Hart  with  energy.  "Never  mind  the  cheque, 
Jack.  Listen  to  me ;  this  is  of  more  consequence  : 
every  sinner  is  a  sufferer.  So  far  the  Church  and 
the  world  are  alike;  but  directly  a  sinner  is  at 
peace  with  God  through  Jesns  Christ  he  has  ac- 
cess to  an  unfailing  treasury  of  strength,  consola- 
tion, peace — in  short,  the  supply  of  all  that  he 
needs,  and  is  sure  of  being  carried  through  all  his 
troubles  victoriously." 

"  Then  there  is  no  necessity,"  said  Mr.  Carbury, 
with  something  of  a  sneer,  "  for  you  and  me  to  in- 
terfere in  Smedley's  affairs,  if,  as  I  am  informed, 
he  has  become  a  Christian,  according  to  your  ren- 
dering of  the  word." 

u  Now,  Jack,  be  honest,  and  deal  with  this  case 
with  the  same  common  sense  that  you  would  exer- 


THE  ODD  FIFTEEN.  151 

cise  in  the  affairs  of  life.  God  works  by  means, 
and  when  he  would  deliver  o%e  of  his  children  out 
of  a  trial,  he  turns  the  hearts  of  others  toward 
them,  and  thus  supplies  the  needful  relief,  as  in  this 
very  instance,  when  he  has  so  kindled  up  my  affec- 
tions and  those  of  several  others  for  poor  Dick 
that  I  verily  believe  we  shall  crush  the  very  head 
of  all  his  embarrassments." 

"  I  think  I  could  tell  you  of  a  few  cases,"  said  the 
merchant,  "  where  Christians,  so  called,  are  not  de- 
livered. What  do  you  think  of  Watson,  who  has 
all  his  life  thought  like  you  ?  See  how  his  family 
have  turned  out ;  and  now  the  only  child  in  whom 
he  has  had  any  comfort  is  dying  with  consump- 
tion." 

"  I  wish  you  knew  the  Bible,  John,"  said  Mr. 
Hart ;  "  but  although  you  seldom  read  it,  you  may 
chance  to  remember  an  account  there  of  three  men 
being  cast  into  a  fiery  furnace,  so  hot  that  it  slew 
their  executioners,  while  the  three  victims  walked 
loose  in  the  midst  of  the  flames,  having  with  them 
a  fourth,  ( whose  form  was  like  unto  the  Son  of 
God,'  and  who  was  the  Son  of  God ;  they  came  out 
of  that  ordeal  unharmed  in  their  bodies  and 
strengthened  in  their  souls.  Thus  does  God  vary 
his  dealings  with  his  people ;  some  he  delivers  at 


152  lilCHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

the  very  mouth  of  the  furnace ;  others  he  suffers  to 
enter,  but  he  goes  in  *with  them,  and  his  presence 
is  enough  to  cool  the  hottest  flame.  Pardon  me, 
John,"  he  said,  seeing  the  merchant  was  about  to 
interrupt  him ;  "  have  you  seen  Watson  lately  ?" 

Mr.  Carbury  shook  his  head. 

"  Go  to  him,  then,  and  you'll  be  as  much  sur- 
prised as  was  the  heathen  king.  He  has  such  a 
steadfast  hold  upon  the  hope  set  before  him  that  in 
a  few  years  he  should  be  for  ever  with  her  who  is 
now  fading  before  his  eyes,  rejoicing  together  in  His 
presence  who  has  purchased  for  them  an  eternal 
weight  of  glory,  and  whom  they  have  together 
loved  and  worshipped  on  earth,  that  he  would  tell 
you  in  the  midst  of  his  tears,  '  It  is  well  with  me, 
it  is  well  with  the  child ;  Christ  is  with  us,  we 
want  nothing.' " 

Mr.  Carbury  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand  and 
did  not  reply. 

"  John  Carbury,  my  friend,"  said  Mr.  Plart,  im- 
pressively, "you  are  a  man  of  the  world;  you 
scorn  any  other  religion  than  just  so  much  as  you 
think  will  preserve  the  State  and  keep  the  mob  in 
order ;  now  tell  me  if  you  were  visited  as  Watson 
has  been,  and  found  this  night  when  you  returned 
home  that  mortal  sickness  had  laid  its  hand  upon 


THE  ODD  FIFTEEN.  153 

the  very  desire  of  your  eyes,  where  would  you  go 
for  comfort  ?  I'll  tell  you  what  you  would  do,"  he 
continued,  seeing  that  Mr.  Carbury  remained  silent: 
"you  would  be  greatly  shocked  and  suffer  inde- 
scribably ;  but  you  would  harden  yourself  to  bear 
up  manfully  before  the  world,  and  you  would  try 
to  divert  your  mind  with  that,"  pointing  to  the 
cash-book,  "and  seek  to  forget  that  those  for  whom 
you  had  accumulated  your  thousands  had  been 
taken  away ;  and  this  would  serve  for  a  while ; 
but  presently  there  would  come  a  remembrancer, 
that  gnawing  pain  reminding  you  of  the  enemy 
that  lurks  within ;  then  you  must  go  to  a  sick  bed, 
to  wait,  with  a  vague  apprehension  of  what  might 
come  after  it,  for  death  is  not  the  end  of  a  man,  you 
know." 

"You  are  clever  at  drawing  pictures,  Jacob," 
said  Mr.  Carbury,  whose  voice  was  not  quite 
even. 

"I  am  right,  John,"  replied  his  friend;  "and 
so  convinced  am  I  that  godliness  hath  the  promise 
of  the  life  that  now  is,  as  well  as  of  that  which  is 
to  come,  that  I  would  choose  the  gospel  for  my 
rule  of  life  if  there  were  no  world  but  this.  You 
laugh  at  us  and  call  us  fools,  but  it  is  you,  and  such 
as  you,  that  are  the  fools,  John,  wise  as  you  think 


154  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

yourselves;  and  no  man  that  has  ever  tasted  the 
gain  of  godliness  would  change  with  the  best  of 
you.  Peace  of  conscience,  a  tranquil  resting  of  all 
cares  on  God,  a  will  subdued,  every  lawful  pleas- 
ure sweetened  tenfold,  a  hope  that  brightens  as  the 
end  approaches,  oh  who  wouldn't  be  a  Chris- 
tian ?"  said  Mr.  Hart,  who  had  been  ejaculating  to 
himself  while* buttoning  his  coat  and  again  adjust- 
ing his  comforter. 

"  Why,  man,  you're  in  an  ecstasy,"  said  the  mer- 
chant. 

"  Counting  up  my  treasures,  John,"  said  Mr. 
Hart,  with  a  nod,  "  as  you  were  doing  yours  when 
I  came  in ;  and  mine  will  be  growing  brighter  and 
brighter  when  yours  will  have  crumbled  into  dust. 
So  good-night." 

"  Here,  take  the  cheque,"  said  Mr.  Carbury. 

"  Is  it  willingly  given  ?"  asked  Mr.  Hart,  as  he 
put  his  hand  out  with  some  hesitation. 

"  Oh  yes !"  replied  the  merchant ;  "  and  if 
there's  anything  I  can  do  for  Dick — but,  Jacob,  I 
thought  Christians  ought  to  be  honest,  and  Smed- 
ley's  extravagance  is,  in  my  opinion,  dishonest" 

"He  was  extravagant,  John,"  said  Mr.  Hart, 
with  a  smile,  "  when  he  was  a  man  of  the  world. 
Since  God's  grace  dealt  with  him  in  his  time  of  ad- 


THE  ODD  FIFTEEN.  155 

versity,  he  has  abhorred  himself  for  it,  and  I  think 
I  may  promise  perfect  amendment  that  way." 

"  Well,  you'll  let  me  know  how  you  settle  mat- 
ters, and  if  I  can  help — " 

"  All  well,"  said  Mr.  Hart,  putting  the  cheque 
in  his  pocket;  "I'll  call  on  you  to-morrow,  and 
you  shall  hear." 

When  he  was  gone  the  merchant  mechanically 
turned  to  his  cash-book,  but  the  figures  had  lost 
their  charm ;  an  uncomfortable  conviction  that  the 
day  could  not  be  far  distant  when  the  book  and  its 
treasures  would  pass  into  other  hands  came  strongly 
upon  him,  and  for  the  time  his  idol  had  fallen 
before  the  truth. 

He  closed  his  office  and  returned  home,  deter- 
mining to  have  further  conversation  with  his  friend 
Jacob  upon  a  faith  which,  according  to  his  view, 
had  so  much  to  recommend  it.  "Of  course,  when 
one  looks  beyond  this  life,  it  is  all  true  what  he 
says ;  but  it  is  quite  a  new  idea  of  his,  quite  new 
to  me,  that  Christians  are  the  best  off  in  this  world. 
Yet  I  can  easily  understand  that,  as  he  puts  it,  it  is 
so ;  and  if  so,  he  is  right  when  he  says  Christians 
are  the  wise  men  and  worldlings  are  the  fools." 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH. 

A  TALE  OF  GOD'S  PROVIDENCE. 


CHAPTER   I. 

'HE  twilight  of  a  cold  November  day  had 
closed,  and  the  shades  of  night  were  falling 
around  a  humble  cottage  in  a  lonely  glen  in 
the  Highlands  of  Perthshire,  when  a  poor 
couple  who  resided  there,  John  Martin  and  his 
wife,  sat  down  by  the  decaying  embers  of  a  turf 
fire  to  consult  together  if  they  could  devise  any 
plan  to  raise  enough  money  to  pay  their  rent,  which 
would  be  due  at  the  rapidly  approaching  Martin- 
mas term,  for  as  yet  they  were  almost  totally  un- 
provided with  the  means  of  doing  so. 

The  causes  of  this  deficiency  were  not  far  to  seek, 
for  the  season  throughout  had  been  wet,  cold  and 
backward,  and  John,  who  was  a  poor  cottar,  was 
almost  entirely  dependent  on  the  produce  of  a  small 
piece  of  ground  which  he  rented  along  with  his 
cottage,  and  on  which  he  was  in  the  habit  of  raising 

156 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  157 

oats  and  potatoes.  But  this  year  his  crops  had 
almost  entirely  failed,  and  a  good  deal  of  sickness 
in  his  family  had  been  the  means  of  nearly  exhaust- 
ing what  little  money  he  had.  The  prospect  of  an 
early  and  severe  winter,  too — for  already  a  fall  of 
snow  covered  the  ground  and  the  frost  was  keen 
and  biting — increased  his  anxieties,  as  such  a  state 
of  the  weather  seemed,  for  the  present  at  least,  to 
blight  his  hopes  of  obtaining  employment  in  the 
fields. 

John  was  a  decent,  industrious,  sober  man,  and, 
though  piously  disposed  upon  the  whole,  was  rather 
of  a  desponding  disposition,  and  now,  as  "things 
seemed,"  to  use  his  own  expression,  "  to  have  been 
going  entirely  against  him  of  late,"  his  spirits  had 
sunk  to  the  lowest  pitch,  and  all  the  eiforts  of  his 
wife  to  cheer  and  encourage  him  by  holding  out 
brighter  hopes  for  the  future  proved  unavailing. 
She  was  of  an  entirely  different  disposition  from 
her  husband,  being  not  only  piously  inclined,  but 
in  truth  and  reality  a  servant  of  God  and  a  hum- 
ble follower  of  Christ.  She  was  a  lineal  descend- 
ant of  one  of  those  worthies  who  in  the  time  of  the 
persecution  under  the  Second  Charles  had  "  sealed 
their  testimony"  to  the  reality  of  the  principles 
they  professed  with  their  blood,  and  she  inherited 


158  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

a  large  portion  of  the  noble  spirit  which  had  dis- 
tinguished her  ancestors,  for  her  courage  and  hope, 
even  in  the  most  trying  circumstances,  never  had 
been  known  to  fail,  and  her  trust  in  God  and  re- 
liance on  his  all-sufficient  aid  in  "  times  of  trouble  " 
were  strong  and  enduring.  And  now,  having  put 
her  three  children  to  bed  and  seen  them  fall 
asleep,  that  they  might  not  interrupt  the  conversa- 
tion between  her  husband  and  herself,  she  was  try- 
ing to  inspire  him  with  confidence  similar  to  her 
own,  while  she  suggested  any  expedient  likely  to 
avail  them  in  their  present  emergency.  She  could, 
however,  think  of  nothing  better  than  to  propose 
an  application  to  their  landlord  to  see  if  he  would 
grant  them  "a  little  time."  To  this  plan  John 
strongly  objected,  for  though  the  proprietor  of  his 
cottage  and  ground  was  a  great  and  wealthy  noble- 
man— whose  estates  covered  many  miles  of  the 
surrounding  country — whose  forests  abounded  with 
deer  and  other  game,  his  rivers  with  fish  and  his 
pastures  with  cattle — who  lived  in  great  state  and 
splendour,  and  "  fared  sumptuously  every  day  " — 
yet  there  was  about  John  Martin  a  native  pride,  or 
perhaps,  to  speak  more  correctly,  a  strong  sense  of 
honour  and  integrity,  which  he  shared  in  common 
with  most  of  the  Scottish  peasantry,  and  which 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  159 

made  him  shrink  from  the  thought  of  "  owing  any 
man  anything,"  let  his  situation  be  ever  so  superior 
to  his  own  or  his  rank  ever  so  high ;  so  he  told  his 
wife  that  he  would  be  reduced  to  the  last  extremity 
before  he  \vould  bring  himself  to  consent  to  make 
such  an  application. 

"  Well  then,  John,"  said  Marion,  after  a  mo- 
ment's reflection,  "  since  that  is  your  determination, 
I  see  but  one  other  thing  we  can  do,  and  that  is  to 
sell  our  cow,  in  order,  if  possible,  to  make  out  the 
necessary  sum. 

"  What !  sell  poor  Crummie  ?"  *  exclaimed  John, 
in  a  tone  of  mingled  surprise  and  dismay;  "and 
what  then  will  our  children  do  for  milk?  You 
know  it  is  their  chief  dependence  in  the  way  of 
food ;  and  besides,  even  if  that  were  not  the  case, 
I'm  sure  it  would  break  their  hearts  to  part  with 
her,  she  is  such  a  favourite  with  them.  No,  Marion, 
you  must  try  to  think  of  something  else;  I  can 
never  consent  to  that." 

"  I  know  it  will  be  hard  on  them,  poor  things ! 
but  they  must  learn  to  put  up  with  greater  hard- 
ships still,  if  it  be  God's  will  to  appoint  them,  and 
if  times  mend  with  us  we  can  buy  them  what  little 
milk  they  require.  And  I  can  think  of  nothing 

*  The  familiar  name  for  a  cow  among  the  Scottish  peasantry. 


1GO  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINQS. 

else,  John.  You  know  you  would  not  borrow  the 
money  even  if  you  knew  any  person  who  could 
lend  it ;  and  as  you  will  not  ask  delay  of  the  duke, 
there  is  nothing  for  us  that  I  can  see  but  to  part 
with  the  cow." 

"  It  seems  hard  for  us  to  part  with  our  one  cow 
for  the  sake  of  a  man  who  has  so  many  of  his  own, 
and  so  much  of  this  world's  wealth  besides,"  replied 
John,  doubtfully  ;  "  and  to  think  that  when  it  is 
gone  we  shall,  in  a  manner,  have  little  or  nothing 
else  to  depend  on  !" 

"'Though  the  flock  shall  be  cutoff  from  the 
fold,  and  there  shall  be  no  herd  in  the  stalls,  yet  I 
will  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  I  will  joy  in  the  God  of  my 
salvation'"  (Habakkuk  iii.  17,  18),  said  Marion, 
gravely.  "Oh,  John,  remember  that  though  we 
should  be  deprived  of  all  else,  we  have  still  our 
God,  and  ought  we  not  to  believe  his  own  blessed 
promises,  and  to  feel  that  'He  that  spared  not 
his  own  Son,  but  delivered  him  up  for  us  all/ 
will  surely  not  withhold  any  'good  thing'  from 
those  who  love  and  trust  him  ?  I  know  it  is  hard 
to  flesh  and  blood  to  submit  to  all  that  our  God 
appoints  for  us,  but  ought  we  not  to  try?  It  was 
a  good  saying  of  an  old  divine,  '  We  ought  to  trust 
even  when  we  cannot  trace ; '  and  if  you  will  but 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  161 

try  to  do  so,  dear  John,  I  am  persuaded  you  will 
find  that  in  spite  of  present  appearances  God  has 
much  good  in  store  for  us  yet." 

"  He  has  much  good  even  in  possession  for  me, 
when  he  has  blessed  me  with  such  a  wife  as  you, 
Marion,"  answered  John,  affectionately ;  "  and  I 
feel  I'm  very  wrong  and  ungrateful  to  repine  as  I 
do,  when  I  should  be  thankful  to  him  for  you, 
though  I  had  never  received  another  blessing  at  his 
hand." 

"  Rather  be  thankful  for  the  measure  of  content- 
ment and  resignation  to  his  holy  will  which  he 
has  put  into  my  heart,  John,  for  these  are  his  gifts, 
too.  Indeed,  what  have  we  that  we  have  not  re- 
ceived from  him?"  said  Marion,  gently.  "And 
see  here,"  she  added,  as  she  rose,  stirred  up  the  fire 
and  lighted  her  lamp — "see  what  a  quantity  of  nice 
flax  I've  spun,  and  I  hope  to  get  a  good  price  for  it, 
too,  some  of  these  days."  So  saying  she  opened  a 
cupboard  and  displayed  the  fruits  of  her  industry 
stored  on  the  shelves ;  for  the  events  we  are  nar- 
rating took  place  some  fifty  or  sixty  years  ago,  be- 
fore the  progress  of  modern  invention  had  so  much 
superseded  the  efforts  of  the  thrifty  housewife  in 
this  department. 

"  I  hope  to  make  something  of  that,  John,"  she 
11 


162  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

continued  cheerfully  as  she  drew  her  wheel  toward 
her  and  began  to  spin.  "And  then  the  frost  will 
soon  break  up,  and  you  will  get  some  work  in  my 
lord's  fields,  for  Mr.  Stewart,  the  factor,  was  here 
to-day  when  you  were  out,  and  he  tells  me  there  is 
to  be  a  complete  drainage  set  afoot  whenever  the 
soft,  weather  returns ;  and  then,  you  know,  the  more 
punctual  you  are  in  paying  your  rent,  the  readier 
he'll  be  to  give  you  employment;  so  I  hope  you'll 
come  to  see  that  the  sale  of  poor  Crummie  is  the 
only  thing  for  us,  after  all."  John  did  not  reply, 
but  sat  musing  in  silence  for  some  minutes.  It 
was  hard  for  him  to  reconcile  himself  to  such  a 
thing,  for  the  same  pride  which  makes  a  Scottish 
peasant  revolt  from  the  thought  of  owing  debt,  at- 
taches the  idea  of  great  humiliation  to  being  obliged 
to  sell  property  of  any  kind  in  order  to  raise  the 
funds  necessary  to  defray  it;  so  a  considerable 
struggle  between  pride  and  duty  took  place  in  his 
mind  before  he  could  bring  himself  to  adopt  such 
an  alternative.  At  length  his  sterling  principle 
triumphed.  "  It  is  my  duty,"  he  said,  in  a  hesi- 
tating voice :  "  yes,  wife,  you  are  right ;  come  of  it 
what  may,  I  see  it  must  be  done ;"  and  he  sup- 
pressed a  sigh  as  he  added,  "  and  there's  no  time 
to  lose.  Let  me  see — to-morrow  is  Wednesday, 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  163 

and  Thursday  is  the  day  of  the  cattle  fair  at  D , 

and  I  must  be  off  by  daybreak,  for  it  will  be  as 
much  as  I  can  manage  to  get  there  in  time  with  the 
cow,  the  days  are  so  short  just  now." 

Marion  did  not  fail  to  express  her  cordial  appro- 
bation of  her  husband's  determination ;  and  then, 
like  a  good  and  prudent  wife  as  she  was,  instead 
of  following  up  her  victory  by  expatiating  on  the 
soundness  of  the  advice  she  had  given  him  and 
his  prudence  in  taking  it,  she  judiciously  dropped 
the  subject  and  endeavoured  to  turn  his  thoughts 
to  other  matters.  But  it  would  not  do ;  poor  John 
continued  absent  and  dispirited  throughout  the 
remainder  of  the  evening ;  and  Marion,  seeing  the 
fruitlessness  of  her  efforts,  proposed,  after  he  had 
taken  the  supper  she  set  before  him,  that  as  he 
would  require  to  get  up  very  early  on  the  morrow 
to  prepare  for  his  journey,  he  should  retire  to  bed. 
John  assented,  and  his  wife  rose,  and  taking  from, 
the  shelf  a  well-worn  Bible,  which  had  been  a  sort 
of  heirloom  in  the  family  for  many  generations, 
she  placed  it  on  the  table,  and  instead  of  turning 
to  the  portion  of  Scripture  which  should  come  in 
course  for  the  evening  "  exercise,"  she  selected  the 
thirty-fourth  Psalm  and  desired  him  to  read  it. 
John  obeyed,  and  as  he  proceeded  he  found  the 


164  ETCHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

sentiments  of  that  beautiful  Psalm  so  appropriate 
to  their  situation  that  he  was  not  long  in  perceiv- 
ing the  significance  of  his  wife's  choice  of  it;  and 
the  impression  it  left  on  his  mind  produced  a 
much  more  salutary  effect  than  if  she  had  spent 
hours  in  endeavouring  to  convince  him  of  the  duty 
of  trusting  in  God  and  of  the  sinfulness  of  his 
own  conduct  in  repining  at  his  most  righteous  will ! 
And  strengthened  and  soothed,  if  not  reconciled  to 
the  duty  that  lay  before  him  on  the  morrow,  John, 
after  joining  with  his  wife  in  prayer  for  the  divine 
guidance,  protection  and  aid,  went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE  next  morning,  long  before  the  first  faint 
streak  of  dawn  had  appeared  in  the  wintry  sky, 
John  Martin  rose  to  make  the  few  and  simple 
preparations  necessary  for  his  journey,  while 
Marion  took  a  light  and  went  to  the  cowshed  to 
milk  poor  Crummie  before  she  should  be  sent  away 
to  be  sold.  It  was  with  a  heavy  heart  that  the 
poor  woman  went  to  perform  this  office  for  the  last 
time;  for,  in  spite  of  her  high-wrought  Christian, 
sentiments  and  real  Christian  principle,  she  was  but 
a  weak,  erring  mortal  after  all,  and  human  frailty 


THE  DIAMOND  BRO^CII.  165 

would  at  times  assert  its  sway  over  her.  But  still 
her  confidence  in  God  was  never  entirely  over- 
come ;  and  on  the  present  occasion,  even  in  the 
midst  of  her  depression,  her  mind  was  upborne  by 
a  sense  of  the  divine  presence,  and  her  heart  was 
strengthened  and  cheered  by  a  remembrance  of  the 
precious  promises  of  his  Holy  Word.  So,  master- 
ing her  feelings  as  best  she  could,  she  returned  to 
the  kitchen,  her  task  over,  to  give  her  husband  his 
breakfast,  with  a  steadfast  determination  to  do  her 
duty  and  to  leave  the  rest  to  God.  Few  words 
were  exchanged  between  the  couple  during  the 
repast,  for  a  deep  depression  still  hung  on  John's 
spirits — increased  probably  by  the  thought  that 
the  present  was  the  last  time  that  Crumniie's  milk 
should  form  a  part  of  their  morning  meal.  When 
it  was  over,  he  rose,  and  taking  from  a  drawer  an 
old  pocketbook,  in  which  to  carry  the  money  he 
hoped  to  receive  for  the  cow,  he  put  on  his  great 
coat,  threw  his  plaid  across  his  shoulders,  and,  as 
the  first  faint  signs  of  daylight  now  began  to 
appear,  he  told  Marion  he  was  ready  to  set  out  on 
his  journey.  She  accordingly  accompanied  him  to 
the  cowshed,  and  taking  a  halter  from  the  wall,  she 
attached  it  to  Crumniie's  neck ;  and  then  patting, 
for  the  last  time,  the  sides  of  the  poor  animal,  as 


166  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINOS. 

she  put  the  rope  into  her  husband's  hand,  she 
turned  away  to  hide  her  fast-gathering  tears.  But 
quickly  recovering  herself,  she  asked  John  when 
she  might  expect  to  see  him  home  again.  "  Well, 
even  if  I  should  be  fortunate  enough  to  find  a  pur- 
chaser for  the  cow,  it  will  be  much  too  late  for  me 

to  leave  D after  the  fair  is  over  on  Thursday ; 

but  if  all  goes  well,  you  may  depend  on  seeing  me 
by  Friday  at  sunset.  And  bidding  his  wife 
"  good-bye,"  he  turned  to  depart. 

" '  The  Lord  bless  thee  and  keep  thee ;  the  Lord 
make  his  face  shine  upon  thee,  and  be  gracious 
unto  thee ;  the  Lord  lift  up  his  countenance  upon 
thee,  and  give  thee  peace!'"  (Num.  vi.  24-26), 
said  Marion,  fervently,  as  she  returned  her  hus- 
band's "farewell;"  and  surely,  if  earnestness  of 
appeal  has  power  to  call  down  a  blessing  from  on 
high,  John  went  forth  on  his  journey  blessed  of 
God.  After  thus  commending  him  to  the  only 
all-sufficient  Guide  and  Protector,  Marion  stood 
for  a  few  minutes  watching  him  as  his  form  and 
that  of  the  cow  diminished  in  the  distance,  and 
then  she  lifted  up  her  heart  in  gratitude  to  God,  as 
the  thought  crossed  her  mind  :  "  How  thankful  I 
should  feel  that,  amid  my  other  anxieties,  I  don't 
require  to  warn  John  to  be  careful  of  the  money 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  167 

when  he  gets  it,  as  many  a  poor  wife  might  have 
to  do  if  her  husband  was  going  to  encounter  the 
temptations  of  a  fair.  But  John  is  as  sober  as  he 
is  industrious,  and  I've  no  reason  to  fear  for  him ; 
the  Lord  be  praised  for  it!"  And  so  saying, 
Marion  re-entered  her  cottage  to  set  about  her 
household  duties. 

Leaving  her  for  the  present,  we  shall  accompany 

John  to  D .  He  had  not  walked  more  than  a 

mile  or  two  when  the  glorious  sun  arose,  lighting 
up  the  grand  and  majestic  features  of  the  surround- 
ing landscape — beautiful  even  in  its  unfamiliar 
snowy  aspect — and  shining  on  the  solitary  pedes- 
trian as  he  journeyed  on,  it  helped  to  shed  cheer- 
fulness and  hope  into  the  heart  which  his  pious 
wife's  parting  blessing  had  tended  much  to 
strengthen  and  encourage. 

Then,  in  a  little  while  afterward,  he  heard  a 
horse's  feet  behind  him  on  the  road,  which  had 
been  partially  trodden  down  by  many  travellers 

having  already  taken  their  way  to  D that 

morning,  and  looking  round,  he  saw  Donald  Fra- 
ser,  a  neighbour  and  intimate  acquaintance  of  his, 
trotting  after  him  on  his  little  shaggy,  sure-footed 
Highland  pony.  John  hailed  him  with  much 
pleasure,  for  he  felt  glad  at  the  thought  of  having 


168  RICHES   WITHOUT   WINGS. 

a  companion  to  help  to  beguile  the  tediousncss  of 
the  journey  and  to  divert  his  mind  from  the  sub- 
ject that  engrossed  it ;  and  he  could  not  have  met 
with  one  more  suitable  for  the  purpose,  for  Donald 
was  an  old  soldier,  had  served  in  the  American 
war  and  was  full  of  anecdote  regarding  his  cam- 
paigns, various  adventures  and  "hair-breadth 
escapes"  by  "flood  and  field."  He  had,  some 
years  before,  retired  on  a  small  pension,  and  had 
come  to  reside  with  a  married  daughter,  who  lived 
about  a  mile  distant  from  John.  He  was  withal  a 
kind-hearted  fellow,  and  being  now  bound  like 
John  for  the  fair  at  D ,  he  insisted  on  the  lat- 
ter taking  his  turn  of  the  pony  for  a  mile  or  so  at 
a  time,  while  he  relieved  him  of  the  charge  of  the 
cow.  This  arrangement  lightened  the  fatigue  of 
the  journey  to  John,  while  the  kindness  of  his  old 
neighbour — who  took  this  delicate  way  of  showing 
his  sympathy  with  him  under  his  present  circum- 
stances, while  he  refrained  from  expressing  it  in  a 
manner  more  open — cheered  and  refreshed  his 
heart.  And  thus  they  journeyed  on  together,  and 

reached    D about    nightfall,   when    Donald 

insisted  on  his  friend's  accompanying  him  to  the 
house  of  a  relative  with  whom  he  was  to  lodge, 
under  promise  of  securing  accommodation  for  him 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  169 

there  also  after  lie  should  have  obtained  quarters 
for  the  night  for  his  cow.  This  considerate  atten- 
tion, together  with  the  hospitable  welcome  he 
received  from  Donald's  cousin,  was  very  cheering 
to  John ;  and  he  began  to  think  that  the  Almighty 
was  already  answering  the  parting  prayer  of  his 
wife  in  thus  disposing  these  good  people  to  show 
him  so  much  kindness;  and  he  looked  forward 
with  more  hope  than  he  had  yet  done  to  his  success 
in  accomplishing  the  object  of  his  journey.  It  was 
late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day,  however, 
before  he  succeeded  in  finding  a  suitable  purchaser 
for  the  cow,  but  at  last  he  was  so  fortunate  as  to 
dispose  of  it  at  a  fair  price.  After  giving  it  up  to 
its  new  owner,  and  depositing  the  money  he  receiv- 
ed for  it  in  his  pocketbook,  he  was  about  to  leave 
the  ground,  when  his  friend  Donald,  who  had 
accompanied  him  to  the  fair,  was  accosted  by  a 
farmer  from  Inverness-shire,  his  own  native 
county,  and  having  much  to  say  to  each  other,  they 
stood  conversing  together  for  some  time,  while 
John,  having  nothing  to  do  now  that  his  business 
was  settled,  waited  near  the  old  friends  till  they 
should  part.  At  length  the  farmer  proposed  that 
Donald  should  dine  with  him  at  the  inn  where  he 
was  to  pass  the  night,  and  Donald,  who  had  all  the 


170  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

warm  interest  of  a  Highlander  in  his  native  glen^ 
which  lie  had  not  seen  since  he  left  it  long  years 
before  to  fight  his  country's  battles  in  a  distant 
land,  at  once  agreed  to  the  proposal,  in  order  that 
he  might  hear  all  his  friend  had  to  tell  of  the  few 
companions  of  his  youth  who  might  still  survive 
and  sojourn  there.  John,  who  had  been  intro- 
duced as  the  old  soldier's  friend  and  fellow-trav- 
eller, was  courteously  invited  to  join  the  party,  and, 
not  knowing  how  to  dispose  of  himself  for  the 
remainder  of  the  evening,  he  gladly  accepted  the 
invitation. 

As  both  Donald  and  the  farmer  were  men  of 
sober  habits  and  conversable  dispositions,  John 
spent  a  pleasant  evening  in  their  company,  and  at 
ten  o'clock  they  proposed,  as  they  were  to  start 
homeward  early  on  the  following  morning,  that 
they  should  separate.  Accordingly,  the  friends 
rose  to  resume  their  great  coats,  which  they  had 
laid  aside  at  their  entrance.  After  Donald  had 
taken  a  cordial  farewell  of  the  farmer,  on  turning 
round  to  join  John  Martin  he  was  struck  with  the 
expression  of  dismay  on  his  countenance  while  he 
searched  with  nervous  agitation  in  the  pockets  of 
his  great  coat  for  something  that  he  evidently 
could  not  find.  On  his  inquiring  if  he  had  lost 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  171 

anything,  he  was  much  shocked  at  being  told  that 
the  pocketbook  containing  the  bank-notes  he  had 
received  for  the  cow  was  gone !  Loud  and  sincere 
were  the  expressions  of  regret  and  sympathy  that 
followed  this  discovery ;  and  the  kind-hearted  old 
soldier,  feeling  that  his  own  thoughtlessness  in  de- 
taining his  friend  standing  so  long  among  the 
crowd  at  the  fair  might  have  partly  led  to  this 
catastrophe,  mingled  words  of  self-reproach  with 
suggestions  and  advice  as  to  how  he  should  act,  in 
order,  if  possible,  to  recover  the  money.  But  poor 
John  stood  the  image  of  despair,  hardly  hearing  a 
word  his  friend  uttered,  and  for  some  minutes  so 
overwhelming  were  his  feelings  that  he  could  not 
speak. 

His  friend  could  hardly  realize  these  feelings; 
for  though  he  must  have  known  that  to  a  poor  man 
the  loss  of  such  a  sum  was  a  very  serious  matter, 
he  was  ignorant  that  it  was  all  he  had  to  depend 
on  for  the  payment  of  the  arrears  of  his  rent.  At 
length  John  was  roused  to  the  necessity  of  making 
some  exertion,  and  he  mechanically  followed  his 
friend  as  he  heard  him  propose  that  he  should  lose 
no  time  in  reporting  his  loss  to  the  police,  though 
at  the  same  time  he  could  not  help  expressing  his 
fears  that  such  an  application  would  be  hopeless. 


172  RICHES  WITHOUT   WINGS. 

When  Donald  reflected  that  the  robbery  must  have 
taken  place  at  the  fair,  and  that  in  all  probability 
the  thieves  were  by  this  time  far  on  their  way  to 
the  Scottish  or  English  metropolis  to  share  their 
booty  with  the  gang  to  which  they  belonged,  he 
felt  that  he  could  hold  out  very  little  encourage- 
ment to  his  desponding  friend;  but  saying  that 
while  there  was  even  the  slightest  chance  it  was  a 
pity  to  neglect  it,  he  persisted  in  urging  him  on- 
ward to  the  police  office. 

On  reaching  it  and  stating  his  case,  John  was 
told  that  nothing  could  be  done  that  night ;  but 
after  taking  down  a  description  of  the  pocket-book 
and  ascertaining  the  sum  it  contained,  the  superin- 
tendent promised  to  set  the  detectives  on  the  alert 
as  early  as  possible  the  following  morning.  He 
then  asked  John  if  he  could  give  him  the  numbers 
of  the  missing  notes,  and  state  to  what  banking 
company  they  belonged,  adding  that  such  infor- 
mation was  nearly,  if  not  altogether,  indispensable 
to  the  chance  of  success  in  endeavouring  to  detect 
the  thief.  Poor  John  was  sadly  perplexed  at  this 
question,  for  he  was  so  ignorant  of  business  it  had 
never  once  occurred  to  him  to  ascertain  such  par- 
ticulars ;  so  that  on  receiving  the  notes  he  had  con- 
tented himself  with  simply  counting  them  over 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  173 

before  putting  them  in  his  pocketbook.  But  Don- 
ald Fraser,  who  was  a  shrewd  fellow,  and  better 
acquainted  with  the  world,  suggested  that  the  per- 
son who  paid  them  might  perhaps  know ;  and  as 
fortunately  he  lived  within  a  short  distance  of  the 
town,  John  proposed  to  set  out  immediately  in 
search  of  the  necessary  information.  On  his  friend 
reminding  him  that  as  nothing  could  be  done  that 
night,  it  would  be  a  pity  to  disturb  the  man  at  so 
late  an  hour,  he  agreed  to  defer  his  visit  till  early 
on  the  following  morning ;  and  promising  to  call 
at  the  police  office  on  his  return  and  let  the  super- 
intendent know  the  result  of  his  inquiries,  with  a 
heavy  heart  he  accompanied  Donald  to  the  house 
of  his  cousin,  where  the  friends  were  again  to  pass 
the  night. 

CHAPTER   III. 

As  the  reader  will  easily  believe,  the  recollection 
of  poor  John's  loss  pressed  too  heavily  on  his  mind 
to  admit  of  his  enjoying  much  sleep ;  so  he  got  up 
between  three  and  four  o'clock  on  the  following 
morning,  feeling  that  it  would  be  of  consequence 
to  be  at  the  police  office  when  it  should  be  open  at 
six.  He  was  sure  that  the  urgency  of  the  case 
would  sufficiently  excuse  his  disturbing  the  person 


174  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

on  whom  he  had  to  call  at  so  early  an  hour.  Be- 
sides, he  was  thankful  to  make  the  necessary  exer- 
tion, in  hope  of  being  able  in  some  measure  to 
divert  his  mind  from  his  misfortune,  for  to  remain 
inactive  in  his  present  circumstances  was  intoler- 
able. But  as  he  traversed  the  dark  and  silent 
streets,  in  spite  of  his  endeavours  to  avoid  doing  so, 
he  could  not  help  dwelling  on  his  loss ;  for  lie  could 
scarcely  allow  himself  to  hope  that  there  might  be 
a  chance  of  recovering  the  money,  and  he  pictured 
to  himself  what  his  situation  and  that  of  his  wife 
and  children  might  be  in  the  event  of  his  land- 
lord's proving  as  unrelenting  as  he  feared  he  would 
be  if  he  failed  to  pay  his  rent.  The  thought  of 
their  being  ejected  from  their  cottage  and  turned 
out,  houseless  and  destitute,  on  the  lone  hillside, 
presented  itself  to  his  mind ;  and  he  sighed  mourn- 
fully as  he  felt  how  extremely  forlorn  their  situ- 
ation would  be  in  such  a  case,  for  he  had  no  near 
relative  or  friend  to  whom  he  could  apply  for  as- 
sistance ;  and,  as  we  have  seen,  poor  John  had  not 
the  strong  faith  nor  hopeful  trust  in  God  with 
which  his  wife  was  blessed. 

While  these  gloomy  thoughts  were  passing 
through  his  mind,  his  way  led  him  across  the  prin- 
cipal street  of ,  opposite  to  a  large,  handsome 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  1V5 

building,  before  which  three  lamps  were  dimly 
burning;  and  within  a  few  paces  of  the  pavement, 
where  the  snow  had  been  cleared  away,  he  was 
struck  with  observing  some  bright  object  on  the 
ground  glittering  and  glancing  in  the  uncertain 
light.  He  stooped  down  to  examine  it,  and  found 
that  it  was  a  large  brooch  composed  of  some  kind 
of  shining  stones  of  great  size  and  brilliancy.  As 
the  reader  may  suppose,  John  had  no  personal 
knowledge  of  precious  stones,  but  he  had  heard 
his  mother — who  in  early  life  had  been  a  servant 
in  the  family  of  the  great  feudal  proprietor  whose 
tenant  he  was — expatiate  on  the  beauty  and  value 
of  the  duchess'  diamonds,  and  it  struck  him  that 
the  trinket  he  had  found  might  be  something  of 
the  same  kind.  He  turned  it  round  and  round  in 
his  hand  and  saw  that  the  back  of  it  was  of  gold, 
but  he  in  vain  sought  for  any  trace  of  a  name 
which  might  lead  to  a  discovery  of  its  owner. 
Presently,  a  strong  temptation  assailed  him — what 
if  he  were  to  set  off  immediately  for  Edinburgh 
and  offer  it  for  sale?  Though  he  had  not  the 
slightest  idea  of  its  real  value,  yet  he  was  certain 
it  would  bring  a  much  larger  sum  than  that  which 
he  had  lost,  and  what  an  infinite  relief  it  would  be 
to  his  mind  if  he  could  by  any  means  procure 


176  ETCHES  WITHOUT  wixas. 

that !  But  the  next  moment  he  repelled  the  temp- 
tation ;  for  the  thought  of  what  Marion  would  say 
if  he  told  her — and  he  must  do  so  to  account  for 
his  absence — was  immediately  followed  by  one  still 
more  solemn,  and  he  asked  himself  the  question  : 
"How  can  I  do  this  great  wickedness,  and  sin 
against  God  ?"  For  to  sell  what  did  not  belong 
to  himself  he  at  once  saw  would  be  an  act  of  dis- 
honesty ;  and  come  what  might,  he  never  could 
bring  himself  to  stoop  to  that.  So  he  resolved 
rather,  on  his  return  from  his  errand,  to  take  it  to 
the  police  office,  tell  how  and  where  he  had  found 
it,  and  beg  the  superintendent  to  take  the  necessary 
steps  to  discover  its  owner.  Happy,  blessed  re- 
solve !  At  any  time,  when  assailed  by  temptation, 
let  yours,  reader,  ever  be  a  similar  one !  So,  with 
a  heart  lightened  of  half  its  load  in  consequence 
of  his  successful  resistance  of  this  temptation,  John 
proceeded  on  his  way,  holding  the  brooch  firmly  in 
his  hand. 

But,  alas !  on  reaching  the  house  of  the  man  to 
whom  he  had  sold  the  cow,  he  met  with  a  sad  dis- 
appointment ;  for  he  found  that  for  any  informa- 
tion he  could  give  him  regarding  the  notes,  his 
chance  of  recovering  them  was  as  remote  as  ever, 
for  he  had  himself  just  received  them  for  some 


THE  DIAMOND  SMOOCH.  177 

stock  he  had  been  selling  a  few  minutes  before  he 
paid  them  to  John,  and  he  had  never  examined 
them,  nor  did  he  know  the  persons  who  had  given 
them  to  him.  So,  with  his  spirits  again  sunk  to 
the  lowest  pitch,  John  retraced  his  steps  to  the  po- 
lice office.  It  was  about  a  quarter-past  six  o'clock 
when  he  reached  it,  and  just  as  he  entered  a  ser- 
vant in  livery  came  out  and  mounted  a  horse  which 
stood  at  the  door,  and  as  he  was  riding  off,  John 
heard  the  superintendent  desire  him  to  tell  his  lady 
that  her  orders  would  be  attended  to  immediately. 
Then  turning  to  John,  whom  he  did  not  at  first 
recognize,  he  asked,  "Well,  my  man,  what  may 
your  business  be  ?" 

John  reminded  him  of  his  having  called  at  the 
office  on  the  previous  night  about  the  money  that 
had  been  stolen  from  him ;  and  then,  in  despairing 
accents,  he  related  the  result  of  his  application  that 
morning. 

"  That  is  a  sad  pity,"  was  the  reply,  "  for,  as  I 
said  last  night,  I  fear  your  only  chance  of  recover- 
ing the  money  would  depend  upon  your  being  able 
to  obtain  the  information  I  wanted.  But  cheer  up, 
my  man,"  he  added  kindly,  as  he  observed  poor 
John's  despairing  look ;  "  it  is  just  possible  that  the 
thief  may  yet  be  traced ;  let  me  have  your  name 

12 


178  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

and  address,  and  I  will  see  what  can  be  done  for 
you."  And  as  he  seated  himself  at  a  writing-desk 
for  the  purpose  of  taking  them  down,  John  thank- 
ed him  gratefully ;  but  on  seeing  him  still  linger 
after  they  were  written,  the  superintendent  asked 
if  there  was  anything  else  he  could  do  for  him. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  John  ;  "  here  is  something  I 
found  in  the  street  this  morning,  and  I've  brought 
it  to  you,  as  I  think  you  may  be  able  to  find  out 
the  owner ;"  and  as  he  laid  the  diamond  brooch  on 
the  desk  he  proceeded  to  relate  how  and  where  he 
had  got  it. 

The  superintendent  uttered  an  exclamation,  which 
made  all  the  policemen  who  happened  to  be  in  the 
office  at  once  flock  round  John,  to  see  what  could 
have  occasioned  it. 

"  Well,  I  declare,"  continued  the  superintendent, 
"  a  little  wrhile  ago  I  was  thinking  what  an  unfor- 
tunate fellow  you  were;  and  now  I  must  congrat- 
ulate you  on  your  extreme  good  luck." 

"  Yes,  if  so  be  that  this  is  really  the  brooch  \ve 
are  in  search  of,"  said  one  of  the  policemen. 

"  There's  little  chance  of  two  such  being  lost  in 
one  night,"  replied  the  superintendent,  laughing; 
"indeed,  I  question  if  there  is  one  like  this  in  all 
Scotland,"  he  added,  taking  up  the  brooch  and  ex- 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  179 

amining  it.  "Besides,  this  answers  the  descrip- 
tion exactly,  and  was  found  in  the  very  place. 
Look  here,"  he  continued,  turning  to  John,  and  Ke 
pointed  as  he  spoke  to  a  placard  which  one  of  his 
men  had  just  been  fastening  to  the  door;  "just 
before  you  came  in,  we  received  this  notice,  and  I 
was  about  to  send  off  a  copy  of  it  to  be  printed 
and  posted  up  in  the  streets ;  I  little  expected  to 
be  so  soon  saved  from  requiring  to  do  so." 

John  obeyed,  and  proceeded  to  read  the 
announcement  of  the  loss  of  a  very  valuable 
diamond  brooch,  which  had  been  dropped  that 
morning,  between  two  and  three  o'clock,  by  a  lady 
on  her  way  from  the  assembly-rooms,  where  a  ball 
had  been  held  the  night  before.  It  then  went  on 
to  describe  the  brooch,  and  to  state  that  "  any  one 
finding  it  and  bringing  it  to  the  address  given, 
would  receive  the  reward  of  fifty  pounds." 

When  John  had  read  the  above,  he  stood  like 
one  bewildered  and  hardly  believing  the  evidence 
of  his  eyesight;  for  in  his  simplicity,  when  he 
determined  honestly  to  bring  the  brooch  to  the 
police  office,  the  idea  of  reward  never  once  crossed 
his  mind ;  so  that  the  revulsion  occasioned  in  it  by 
this  sudden  transition  from  utter  hopelessness  to 
extreme  happiness  was  so  strong  that  he  could 


180  RICHES   WITHOUT  WIXQS. 

scarcely  command  his  feelings  so  as  to  avoid  burst- 
ing into  tears. 

"  What  ails  you,  my  man  ?"  exclaimed  the  super- 
intendent, observing  his  emotion ;  "  you  seem  to 
take  your  good  fortune  in  rather  an  unusual 
manner !" 

"  Oh,  sir,  if  you  did  but  know  all,  you  would 
not  wonder  at  my  feeling  overwhelmed,"  replied 
John.  "The  loss  I  met  with  yesterday  left  me 
penniless ;  and  now  to  think  of  my  good  fortune 
in  chancing  upon  such  a  sum  of  money,  and  all 
for  nothing,  too !" 

"  I  can  assure  you  the  lady  who  lost  the  brooch 
won't  think  it  nothing.  Why,  man,  do  you  know 
it  is  of  immense  value?  and  might  bring — I  can't 
tell  how  much  money ;  and  being  such  a  rich  prize 
for  any  one  who  might  find  it,  I  do  believe  she 
considered  it  ten  chances  to  one  that  she  would  never 
see  it  again.  Her  servant,  whom  you  met  leaving 
the  office  as  you  came  in,  had  been  to  the  assembly- 
rooms  to  search  inside  and  about  the  doors  before 
coming  here,  as  he  said  his  lady  was  in  a  sad  way 
about  it  when  she  missed  it ;  for,  besides  its  great 
value,  it  was  the  gift  of  an  esteemed  friend.  It 
was  fortunate  indeed  for  you  that  you  chanced  to 
be  there  before  him.  And  now  you'd  better  lose 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  181 

no  time  in  taking  it  to  her.  Here,  Tom,"  address- 
ing one  of  his  men,  "  take  this  honest  fellow  along 
with  you  to  Beechwood,  and  be  sure  to  tell  Mrs. 
Montgomery  that  he  never  once  calculated  on  re- 
ceiving any  reward  when  he  brought  the  brooch  to 
me.  Go  along,  my  man,  and  I  promise  you  that 
you  won't  have  to  complain  of  your  reception." 
And  John  departed  with  his  escort  accordingly. 

While  he  is  on  his  way  we  may  inform  our 
readers  that  the  brooch  he  had  found  had  been 
given  to  Mrs.  Montgomery  by  a  Russian  princess, 
to  whom  she  had  been  introduced  in  early  life  when 
she  resided  with  her  father  in  St.  Petersburg,  where 
he  held  an  official  situation  at  the  court  of  the  em- 
peror. Mrs.  Montgomery  had  first  attracted  the 
notice  of  the  princess  by  her  extreme  beauty,  and 
then,  on  discovering  the  amiability  of  her  disposi- 
tion, she  became  exceedingly  attached  to  her.  This 
attachment  had  been  strengthened  by  the  circum- 
stance of  the  young  lady  having  gone  to  assist  in 
nursing  a  beloved  and  only  child  of  the  princess  in 
a  dangerous  and  protracted  illness ;  and  in  token 
of  her  gratitude  she  had  presented  her  with  the 
costly  brooch  when  she  left  Russia  on  her  marriage 
with  Mr.  Montgomery,  who  was  a  rich  merchant 
of  D ,  but  connected  in  business  with  that 


182  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

country.  Hence  the  high  value  she  set  on  the 
brooch,  her  distress  at  losing  it,  and  the  large  re- 
ward offered  in  hopes  of  recovering  it. 

And  now,  instead  of  accompanying  John  to  the 
beautiful  villa  of  this  lady  in  the  neighbourhood 

of  D ,  we  shall  return  to  Marion,  whom  we 

left  three  days  ago — "  troubled,  yet  not  distressed, 
perplexed,  but  not  in  despair,  persecuted,  but  not 
forsaken,  cast  down,  but  not  destroyed/'  in  her 
lonely  cottage  in  the  Highland  glen. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE  days  that  had  passed  since  her  husband  left 
home  had  been  days  of  mingled  anxiety  and  sad- 
ness to  Marion  Martin — anxiety  on  his  account, 
for  she  was  grieved  at  his  state  of  despondency  re- 
garding their  circumstances,  want  of  trust  in  God 
and  submission  to  his  will — sadness  at  witnessing 
the  sorrow  of  her  children,  and  being  obliged  to 
listen  to  their  fretful  repinings  when  they  found 
that  their  cow  had  been  taken  away  to  be  sold.  It 
was  their  first  sorrow,  and  its  violence  was  great 
in  proportion  to  the  novelty  of  such  a  feeling  in 
their  young  hearts.  They  could  not  be  brought  to 
understand  the  necessity  for  such  a  thing;  nor 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  183 

could  they  attend  to,  far  less  profit  by,  the  lessons 
which  their  pious  mother  tried  to  enforce  on  them 
about  the  duty  of  submission  to  all  that  God 
appoints.  It  would  take  long  years  of  experience 
of  even  sterner  discipline  before  they  could  be  ex- 
pected to  learn  that.  During  the  day,  it  is  true, 
while  engaged  in  their  childish  sports,  they  in  some 
measure  forgot  their  sorrow ;  but  it  returned  again 
when  the  evening  came  round  and  there  was  no 
Crummie  to  milk,  attend  to  and  put  to  bed — on 
ordinary  occasions  the  great  event  of  their  day — 
and  it  was  only  when  they  lay  down  to  rest  that 
they  again  lost  the  recollection  of  their  grief  in 
sleep.  The  next  day  passed  over  much  in  the  same 
manner,  but  on  the  following  their  minds  were 
somewhat  diverted  from  the  one  all-engrossing 
subject  by  the  expectation  of  their  father's  return ; 
so  that  great  was  their  disappointment  when  sun- 
set was  succeeded  by  .the  short  wintry  twilight, 
twilight  by  darkness,  and  still  he  did  not  appear. 

Their  mother  oould  not,  in  some  measure,  help 
sharing  their  uneasiness  on  account  of  her  hus- 
band's non-arrival  at  the  time  he  had  specified,  it 
was  so  unlike  John  not  to  keep  his  word ;  and  then 
she  could  not  think  of  anything  that  could  have 
detained  him,  for  the  idea  of  his  not  being  able  to 


184  RICHES   WITHOUT  WISGS. 

find  a  purchaser  for  the  cow  never  once  entered 
into  her  calculations.  Then  she  thought  that  per- 
haps he  might  have  been  induced  to  wait  by  the 
prospect  of  joining  some  other  people  returning 
home  from  the  fair,  and  she  told  the  children,  in 
answer  to  their  anxious  questions,  that  such  was 
her  conjecture.  But  long  after  their  bed-time  had 
arrived,  and  she  had  with  some  difficulty  succeeded 
in  persuading  them  to  retire  for  the  night,  there 
was  still  no  appearance  of  her  husband,  and  Marion 
began  to  feel  somewhat  alarmed.  True,  she  could 
hardly  have  assigned  a  reason  for  her  apprehen- 
sions, for  in  that  quiet  country  there  was  little  fear 
at  any  rate  of  his  being  -attacked  and  robbed  on  the 
road ;  and  then,  having  money  to  carry  upon  him, 
she  had  sufficient  confidence  in  his  prudence  to 
feel  satisfied  that  he  never  would  have  thrown  him- 
self so  late  unless  he  had  secured  company.  But 
still,  this  consideration  did  not  set  her  mind  entirely 
at  rest,  and  in  spite  of  her  efforts  to  overcome  such 
a  feeling  an  indefinable  dread  took  possession  of  it. 
At  length  she  rose,  went  to  the  door  and  looked 
abroad  on  the  night,  in  hopes  of  seeing  or  hearing 
some  indication  of  her  husband's  approach.  As 
far  as  her  eye  could  reach  in  the  uncertain  light, 
over  the  wide  expanse  of  snow-covered  country,  no 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  185 

object  was  visible,  and  no  sound  met  her  ear  save 
the  faint  sighing  of  the  night-breeze  among  the 
dark  old  firs  in  the  glen,  and  the  murmur  of  the 
waterfall,  which  had  been  too  much  swollen  by 
recent  rains  to  be  frozen.  Above  the  lofty  moun- 
tain which  overshadowed  her  cottage  the  pale 
crescent  moon  had  arisen,  and  thousands  of  bright 
and  glittering  stars  shone  in  the  clear,  frosty  sky. 
Marion  felt  her  mind  cheered  and  elevated  as  she 
gazed  on  these  wonderful  works  of  God's  hand — 
those  "spangled  heavens"  which  "their  Great 
Original  proclaim."  It  was  long  since  the  "  Day- 
star"  had  "  arisen  in  her  own  heart,"  and  would 
she  now  lose  her  faith  in  that  God  who  had 
hitherto  been  her  Guide  and  Support — who  "  had 
done"  for  her  "  exceeding  abundantly  above  all  she 
could  ask  or  think  ?"  No ;  she  would  still  "  hold 
fast  her  confidence  unto  the  end ;"  and  to  encourage 
and  strengthen  her  in  this  resolve  a  voice,  as  if 
stealing  down  from  the  heights  of  heaven,  seemed 
to  whisper  in  her  ear — 

"Trust  in  the  Lord,  for  ever  trust, 

And  banish  all  your  fears 
Strength  in  the  Lord  Jehovah  dwells, 
Eternal  as  his  years." 

Marion  re-entered  her  cottage,  and  after  engaging 


186  RICHES   WITHOUT   WIXGS. 

in  her  nightly  exercise  of  reading  the  Word  and 
prayer,  she  retired  to  rest,  and  soon  enjoyed  that 
"sleep"  which  "He  giveth  his  beloved." 

The  next  day,  soon  after  sunset,  and  before  Mar- 
ion had  time  to  get  anxious  regarding  her  hus- 
band's return,  the  children,  who  had  been  playing 
about  the  door  watching  for  his  expected  arrival, 
entered  the  house  in  great  excitement  to  tell  her 
that  they  saw  father  coming  along  the  road,  and 
Crummie  with  him ! 

Marion's  heart  sank  within  her  at  the  announce- 
ment. Was  it  possible,  then,  that  he  had  not  suc- 
ceeded in  selling  the  cow?  and  what  was  now  to  be 
done  for  the  arrears  of  their  rent?  Then  she 
thought  it  just  possible  that  in  the  fading  light 
the  children  might  have  mistaken  some  one  else  for 
their  father,  and  she  hastened  out  to  see  for  herself. 
But  there  was  no  mistake.  There,  in  the  distance, 
their  forms  clearly  defined  against  the  ruddy  glow 
of  the  western  sky,  a  man  and  a  cow  were 
approaching,  and  she  saw  at  once  that  their  infor- 
mation had  been  correct.  On  hastening  forward 
along  with  them,  however,  to  meet  her  husband, 
one  glance  at  his  countenance  showed  her  that  all 
was  right,  and  his  first  words  set  her  mind  entirely 
at  rest. 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  187 

"  Give  me  joy,  dear  Marion,"  he  said ;  "  I've 
news  for  you  !  I've  met  with  such  a  piece  of  good 
fortune !"  and  while  the  children,  in  their  happi- 
ness at  seeing  the  cow  back  again,  danced  round 
her,  patting  her  neck  and  sides,  he  bade  them  take 
Crummie  to  the  cow-house  and  give  her  a  good 
supper  and  a  comfortable  bed,  for  she  was  "  their 
own  cow  once  more." 

Marion  looked  inquiringly  at  her  husband,  for 
she  was  quite  at  a  loss  to  understand  the  meaning 
of  all  this.  He  did  not  keep  her  long  in  suspense ; 
but  as  they  entered  the  cottage  and  seated  them- 
selves by  the  fireside,  he  proceeded  to  relate  to  her 
all  the  particulars  of  his  story,  with  most  of  which 
the  reader  is  already  acquainted.  Then  he  told 
what  a  kind  reception  he  had  got  from  Mrs.  Mont- 
gomery, who  was  so  delighted  at  seeing  her  brooch 
again  that  she  seemed  hardly  to  know  how  best  to 
show  her  gratitude  to  the  finder.  After  warmly 
commending  his  honesty  and  hearing  his  story, 
she  added  the  price  of  the  cow  to  the  fifty  pounds 
of  reward,  and  desired  him  to  go  and  buy  it  back 
again,  and  then  to  return  and  remain  at  her  house 
all  night,  as  it  would  be  too  late  for  him  to  proceed 
on  his  journey  home  that  day  after  his  business 
should  be  over.  After  leaving  a  large  balance  of 


188  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

the  fifty  pounds  to  his  credit  in  the  bank,  he  had 
brought  with  him  a  bill  for  the  amount  due  for  the 
arrears  of  his  rent,  and  he  concluded  by  telling 
Marion  that  Mrs.  Montgomery  had  promised  to 
send  up  a  supply  of  warm  clothing  for  herself  and 
the  children  on  the  following  week;  adding,  "She 
is  the  kindest  and  best  lady  I  ever  saw,  and  it  was 
a  lucky  chance  indeed  that  brought  us  acquainted 
with  her." 

"Say,  rather,  it  was  the  kind  providence  of  God, 
who  has  mercifully  thought  upon  us  in  our  time  of 
need,  and  sent  us  help  from  above.  To  him  we 
owe  all  our  blessings,"  replied  Marion,  who  had 
listened  with  thankfulness  to  her  husband's  narra- 
tive of  what  she  justly  considered  this  wonderful 
interposition  of  Divine  Providence  in  their  behalf. 

"  You  are  right,  Marion,"  replied  John ;  "  but 
it  is  for  your  sake  alone  that  he  has  shown  us  such 
kindness ;  for  what  am  I  but  a  poor,  ungrateful 
creature,  always  repining  at  his  will  and  never 
trusting  him  as  I  should  do  ?" 

"You  will  be  so  no  longer,  I  am  sure,  dear 
John,"  said  Marion,  gently.  "And  remember 
that  I  am  equally  unworthy  with  yourself ;  it  is  to 
his  mercy  in  Christ  Jesus  alone  that  we  are 
indebted  for  all  we  receive  at  his  hand.  And 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  189 

now/'  she  added,  "  I  wish  I  had  something  better 
than  our  usual  fare  to  refresh  you  with  after  your 
long  journey  this  cold  day,  though  the  good  news 
you've  brought  should  be  enough  to  cheer  us  for 
many  a  day  to  come  without  anything  else." 

"  Oh,  I  had  forgot,"  replied  John ;  "  here  is  some- 
thing else  the  kind  lady  gave  me ;  and  she  would 
have  insisted  on  my  taking  much  more  if  I  only 
could  have  carried  it."  And  he  laid  upon  the 
table  two  parcels  containing  tea  and  sugar. 

Seldom  was  a  more  cheerful  meal  than  that  to 
which  the  family  sat  down  after  Marion  had  pre- 
pared tea,  milked  the  cow  and  summoned  the  de- 
lighted children  in  from  their  attendance  on  their 
recovered  favourite.  Surely,  never  did  the  costliest 
gems  give  such  happiness  to  their  possessors  as  did 
this  diamond  brooch  produce  in  the  family  of  its 
finder.  And  to  the  soul  of  John  Martin  it  was  the 
means  of  bringing  a  treasure  far  more  precious  than 
all  the  riches  of  Golconda's  mines,  for  it  taught  him 
a  lifelong  lesson  of  trust  in  God. 

At  a  later  hour  that  night  the  incense  of  thanks- 
giving, praise  and  prayer  arose  from  humble  and 
devout  hearts  and  lips  within  that  home ;  and  the 
"Angel  of  the  Lord,"  who  encamps  around  the 
dwellings  of  the  righteous,  doubtless  heard  the 


190  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

holy  sounds,  and  presented  them  at  the  throne  of 
the  Eternal,  to  whom  such  offerings  are  far  more 
precious  than  sacrifices  of  "  thousands  of  rams  or 
ten  thousands  of  rivers  of  oil."  (Micali  vi.  7.) 

From  that  time  forth  everything  prospered  with 
John  Martin.  The  frost  soon  broke  up,  and  he 
obtained  regular  work  in  the  fields.  For  many  a 
succeeding  year  his  crops  were  abundant,  and  he 
was  soon  enabled  to  rent  a  few  additional  acres. 
So  that,  though  he  never  recovered  the  money  he 
had  lost  at  the  fair,  all  went  so  well  with  him  that 
he  never  felt  the  want  of  it.  Then  his  family  grew 
up  industrious,  steady  and  pious ;  and  to  her  chil- 
dren's children  Marion  used  often  to  delight  in  re- 
lating, with  devout  gratitude,  the  wonderful  story 
of  God's  providence  in  the  finding  of  the  diamond 
brooch. 

One  word  before  we  conclude.  We  do  not  wish 
to  convey  to  the  reader  of  this  narrative  the  im- 
pression that  we  mean  to  infer  that  all  who  put 
their  trust  in  God  will  receive  the  reward  of  their 
faith  in  this  world,  as  Marion  Martin  did.  Reason 
and  experience  are  alike  contrary  to  such  a  belief. 
For  we  know  that  often  the  experience  of  God's 
most  faithful  servants,  throughout  the  greater  por- 


THE  DIAMOND  SROOCff.  191 

tion  of  their  earthly  pilgrimage,  is  one  of  successive 
trials  and  sorrows.  But  it  is  a  blessed  thought 
that  for  all  those  who  truly  put  their  trust  in  him 
there  is  a  bright  and  glorious  world  in  reversion, 
where  their  "light  affliction,"  which  will  then 
appear  as  "but  for  a  moment,"  worketh  out  "a  far 
more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory."  (2 
Cor.  iv.  17.)  For  what  was  the  answer  of  the 
elder  to  the  beloved  apostle  when  he  beheld  in 
mystic  vision  that  "  great  multitude  which  no  man 
could  number,"  standing  "before  the  throne  and 
before  the  Lamb,  clothed  with  white  robes,  and 
palms  in  their  hands,"  and  appealed  to  his  know- 
ledge for  information  regarding  them  ?  "  These  are 
they  which  came  out  of  great  tribulation,  and  have 
washed  their  robes  and  made  them  white  in  the 
blood  of  the  Lamb.  Therefore  are  they  before  the 
throne  of  God,  and  serve  him  day  and  night  in  his 
temple;  and  He  that  sitteth  on  the  throne  shall 
dwell  among  them.  They  shall  hunger  no  more, 
neither  thirst  any  more;  neither  shall  the  sun  light 
on  them,  nor  any  heat.  For  the  Lamb  which  is  in 
the  midst  of  the  throne  shall  feed  them,  and  shall 
lead  them  unto  living  fountains  of  waters  ;  and 
God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes." 
(Rev.  vii.  14-17.) 


ROBBING  THE  DEAD 


SINGULAR  train  of  circumstances  occur- 
red to  me  many  years  ago  which  may  serve 
to  illustrate  the  dealings  of  Providence. 
Owing  to  a  series  of  heavy  pastoral  labours 
I  deemed  it  advisable  to  recruit  my  exhausted 
strength  by  a  change  of  air  and  scene,  and  was  in- 
duced to  pay  a  visit  to  one  whom  to  hear  was  to 
admire,  and  whom  to  know  was  to  esteem — my 

valued   friend,   the   Rev.  W.   M ,  of  B . 

The  good  man  welcomed  me  with  his  usual  hospi- 
tality, and  in  the  evening  some  hours  were  passed 
in  various  important  discussions.  In  the  course  of 
the  conversation  I  mentioned  a  remarkable  instance 
of  what  appeared  to  be  an  interposition  of  Provi- 
dence, to  which  my  friend  agreed,  adding  this  ob- 
servation: "The  man  who  watches  the  leadings 
of  Providence  will  never  want  a  providence  to 
watch." 

192 


ROBBING   THE  DEAD.  '•'. .     193 

Some  months  afterward  I  was  again  a  visitor  at 
the  house  of  my  friend,  and  said  to  himy"I>o  you 
remember  the  observation  you  made  when-  I-  last 
saw  you — '  The  man  who  watches  the  leadings  of 
Providence  will  never  want  a  providence  to 
watch?'" 

"  Certainly  I  do ;  I  remember  it  well." 
"  Then,  if  you  please,  I  will  regard  that  sentence 
as  your  text  this  evening,  and  I  will  offer  the  com- 
mentary. You  uttered  what  I  regarded  as  an  im- 
portant truth,  and  the  circumstances  that  arose  out 
of  the  events  that  evening  will  confirm  you  in  your 
opinion.  While  we  were  conversing  together  that 
evening,  if  you  remember,  the  servant  came  into 
the  room  to  inquire  for  how  many  visitors  chambers 
were  to  be  prepared.  You  replied,  '  Four,'  men- 
tioning Archdeacon  H ,  Mr..V ,  and  two 

other  gentlemen,  whose  names  I  now  forget.  I 
immediately  exclaimed,  '  My  dear  friend,  these  four 
visitors  must  be  coming  to  you  by  a  previous  ap- 
pointment.' The  answer  was,  '  Yes,  and  they  can- 
not arrive  until  a  late  hour.'  '  Then,'  was  my  reply, 
'  your  house  will  have  enough  to  do  to  provide  W 
all  these  guests ;  and  in  compassion  to  you,  as  I 
am  a  self-invited  visitor,  I  will  change  my  plan 
and  not  stay  here  this  evening.' 

13 


194  MICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

" ' Nonsense,  my  dear  sir  !  I  am  delighted  to  see 
you,'  was  the  reply. 

"'To  stay  would  be  unreasonable;  therefore, 
let  an  obstinate  man  have  his  own  way.' 

" '  Well,  if  you  go  it  is  your  own  act  and  deed. 

Will  you  visit  Mr. ,  the  churchwarden,  who  is 

often  inquiring  after  you  ?' 

"  *  No,  I  will  remain  with  you  until  nine  o'clock, 
and  then  take  my  leave.' 

"  At  nine  o'clock  I  took  my  departure  to  the 
hotel  to  which  I  was  recommended,  and  was  shown 
into  a  private  room.  Finding  it  was  too  early  to 
retire  to  rest,  I  requested  of  the  waiter  the  morn- 
ing or  the  evening  paper. 

"  '  I  am  sorry,  sir,'  said  the  man, '  but  the  papers 
are  gone ;  it  is  after  the  hour  at  which  we  despatch 
them.' 

" '  Never  mind ;  do  not  take  any  trouble  about 
it.' 

"  The  waiter  withdrew,  and  in  about  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  entered  the  room  with  a  paper  in  his 
hand. 

"  '  In  one  of  the  supper-rooms,  sir,  I  have  found 
a  paper ;  it  is  about  ten  days  old,  but  I  thought 
you  might  possibly  like  to  see  it,  sir,  so  I  have 
Drought  it  down.' 


ROBBING  THE  DEAD.  195 

" '  Thank  you ;  it  will  do  very  well,  I  have  no 
doubt,  for  the  short  time  I  have  to  spare.' 

"I  began  to  read,  and  the  first  paragraph  at- 
tracted my  attention  by  its  singular  heading — 
namely,  '  Robbing  the  Dead.'  Its  singularity  led 
me  to  read  it.  It  was  to  this  effect :  That  an  ex- 
amination had  been  carried  on  before  one  of  the 
police  magistrates  in  London  in  consequence  of  a 
robbery  committed  at  sea.  A  gentleman  from 
Honduras,  in  a  delicate  state  of  health,  had  taken 
his  passage  to  England,  and  during  the  voyage  he 
became  exceedingly  ill  and  died.  Shortly  after  his 
death  the  cabin-boy  observed  the  mate  enter  the 
gentleman's  berth,  and,  induced  no  doubt  by  cu- 
riosity, the  boy  watched  the  mate  and  saw  him  take 
a  bag  which  he  supposed  to  contain  money.  This 
bag  the  mate  secreted  in  the  hold  of  the  vessel. 
The  cabin-boy  immediately  informed  the  captain ; 
a  search  was  made  and  a  bag  of  dollars  was  found 
near  the  spot  described.  The  mate  was  put  into 
irons,  and  when  the  vessel  arrived  in  the  river  was 
handed  over  to  the  police.  The  evidence  before 
the  magistrate  being  conclusive,  the  offender  was 
committed  for  trial.  The  deceased  gentleman  was 
a  stranger  to  the  captain  and  the  crew,  and  was 
known  to  them  only  by  name.  This  name,  men- 


196  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINQS. 

tioncd  by  some  of  the  witnesses,  was  one  that  was 
very  unusual,  and  it  occurred  to  me  as  I  read  it 
that  I  had  heard  it  before,  and  that  a  family  bear- 
ing it,  or  something  very  like  it,  lived  in  my  neigh- 
bourhood I  therefore  copied  the  paragraph  into  my 
pocket-book. 

"  Early  the  next  morning  I  proceeded  on  my 
journey,  and  arrived  at  my  own  home  about  mid- 
day;  but  feeling  very  much  impressed  by  the  para- 
graph, I  lost  no  time  in  proceeding  to  that  part  of 
the  parish  where  the  family  I  had  in  view  resided. 
It  consisted  of  an  elderly  lady,  the  widow  of  an 
officer,  and  her  daughters.  I  paid  them  a  pastoral 
visit,  and  in  the  course  of  conversation  I  remarked, 
*  I  think  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  seeing  all  your 
family  ?> 

" '  Oh  no,'  was  the  reply  ;  '  but  I  hope  you  will 
see  them  all,  and  that  very  soon,  for  I  am  expect- 
ing my  noble  and  darling  son  home.' 

"  'Indeed;  then  he  is  abroad,  I  presume?' 

" '  Yes ;  and  we  have  had  charming  letters  from 
him ;  he  has  been  employed  by  the  British  gov- 
ernment, and  he  tells  me  that  the  authorities  have 
made  honourable  mention  of  his  name,  and  that 
as  a  mark  of  their  'approbation  they  have  pre- 
sented him  with  five  hundred  pounds  for  a  very 


ROBBING  THE  DEAD.  197 

difficult  survey  which  he  has  recently  accomplished. 
In  his  last  letter,  which  was  from  Honduras,  he  tells 
me  that  he  is  about  to  return  to  England,  that  he 
may  again  see  his  mother  and  his  sisters,  and  I  can- 
not express  how  anxiously  we  are  longing  for  his 
arrival.' 

"  I  made  no  remark,  but  immediately  withdrew 
and  despatched  a  letter  to  a  relation  of  the  family 
living  a  few  miles  distant.  In  this  letter  I  gave 
an  outline  of  the  circumstance,  and  requested  his 
attendance.  He  arrived  after  some  delay,  and  in 
great  tribulation ;  at  the  same  time  telling  me  he 
had  searched  for  the  paper  I  had  named,  but  that, 
although  it  was  not  a  fortnight  old,  he  could  not 
procure  it,  and  there  was  no  mention  of  the  affair 
in  other  newspapers.  At  length,  by  the  aid  of  a 
friend,  he  had  found  a  copy  of  the  journal,  and 
saw  at  once  that  my  fears  were  too  well  founded. 
He  entreated  me  to  proceed  with  him  to  the  lady's 
house,  and  to  make  known  in  the  most  prudent 
manner  I  could  the  sad  intelligence  that  would 
bring  the  bitterest  sorrow  into  their  household.  I 
accompanied  him  as  he  desired  and  made  the  com- 
munication, guarding  it  in  every  way  that  truth 
would  permit;  but  the  instant  the  object  of  our 
visit  was  conjectured,  the  aged  mother  fell  to  the 


198  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

floor,  and  the  sisters  of  tlie  deceased  officer  were 
scarcely  less  agitated. 

"  When  the  sufferers  had  in  some  degree  recov- 
ered from  the  shock  which  this  blow  to  their  fond- 
est hopes  had  naturally  caused,  the  question  arose, 
What  is  the  best  thing  to  be  done  ?  I  urged  that 
their  relative  should  proceed  immediately  to  Lon- 
don, apply  at  the  police  office,  make  himself  known 
to  the  magistrates,  learn  all  the  particulars,  and  take 
the  proper  steps  to  secure  for  the  widow  and  her 
daughters  whatever  property  there  might  be  in  the 
vessel  belonging  to  the  deceased.  The  advice  com- 
mended itself  to  the  approval  of  all,  and  the  gen- 
tleman took  his  place  to  town  by  that  night's  mail, 
and  the  next  day  had  an  interview  with  the  magis- 
trate, who  was  disposed  to  render  his  aid,  but  re- 
quired some  additional  evidence  of  identity.  In 
this  perplexity  the  relative  produced  my  letter, 
which,  as  it  professed  to  come  from  the  incumbent 
of  the  parish  and  bore  the  proper  post-mark,  the 
magistrate  accepted  as  satisfactory,  and  ordered  an 
officer  to  accompany  the  gentleman  to  the  dock, 
where  the  vessel  was  expected  to  be  taking  in  her 
cargo. 

"  The  vessel  was  found  preparing  to  sail.  On 
the  authority  being  exhibited,  the  captain  stated 


ROBBING   THE  DEAD.  199 

that  he  had  taken  possession  of  sixteen  packages 
which  the  deceased  had  brought  on  board  the  ves- 
sel, and  that,  as  he  knew  not  the  officer's  connec- 
tions, he  had  fixed  his  seal  upon  all  of  them,  that 
they  might  remain  without  loss  until  a  claimant 
was  found.  These  cases  were  immediately  placed 
under  the  charge  of  the  police  officer,  and  in  due 
time  opened  before  proper  authorities.  Among  the 
papers  of  the  deceased  was  a  memorandum  as  to 
some  funds  belonging  to  him  in  the  hands  of 

Messrs.  C and  Co.,  army  agents.     When  the 

due  forms  of  law  had  been  complied  with  by  the 
widow  as  the  nearest  of  kin,  the  funds  in  the  hands 
of  the  agents  and  the  valuable  contents  of  the  six- 
teen packing-cases  became  the  property  of  the  be- 
reaved family,  and  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  it 
was  found  large  enough  to  make  a  very  desirable 
addition  to  the  income  of  his  weeping  mother  and 
his  sorrowing  sisters. 

"  Now,"  I  concluded,  "  all  this  appears  to  have 
been  gained  for  them  by  the  circumstance  of  my 
hearing  your  servant's  inquiry,  and  then,  in  spite 
of  your  entreaty,  resolving  not  to  remain  that 
night  as  your  visitor.  Thus  he  that  watches  the 
hand  of  Providence  will  never  want  a  providence 
to  watch." 


200  RICHES  WITHOUT  JF/A'GVS. 

After  the  accession  to  the  widow's  income  arising 
from  the  discovery  of  her  son's  property  which  I 
had  been  providentially  the  means  of  securing,  I 
became  a  more  frequent  visitor,  and  was  at  times 
consulted  upon  family  affairs.  The  eldest  daugh- 
ter, a  young  lady  of  pleasing  manners  and  personal 
attractions,  gave  me  to  understand  that  she  thought 
of  accepting  an  offer  of  marriage  which  had  re- 
cently been  made  to  her  by  a  gentleman  who  vis- 
ited at  the  house  with  her  mother's  sanction,  and 
she  added  that  all  points  were  satisfactory  save  one, 
and  that  one  was  a  source  of  uneasiness.  Her 
suitor  was  a  confirmed  Unitarian,  and  she  men- 
tioned the  subject  to  me  as  her  pastor,  asking  for 
my  advice ;  but  at  the  same  time  hoping  that,  as 
her  mother  highly  approved  of  the  proposed  al- 
liance, I  would  not  deem  his  religious  sentiments 
a  fatal  obstacle.  The  mother  and  the  young  lady 
were  evidently  anxious  to  obtain  from  me  a  favour- 
able opinion.  My  reply  Avas:  "If  you  are  in 
earnest  in  religion,  how  can  you  expect  the  divine 
favour  to  rest  upon  such  an  alliance  ?  No  worldly 
advantages  can,  in  my  judgment,  compensate  for 
the  dangers  of  such  a  step.  Any  person  believing 
in  the  divinity  of  Christ  and  the  atonement  offered 
by  him,  falls  into  error  by  forming  an  alliance  with 


ROBBING  THE  DEAD.  201 

a  gentleman,  however  amiable,  who  spurns  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Trinity  and  the  divinity  of  Christ; 
therefore,  if  my  opinion  be  of  the  slightest  weight 
in  your  estimation,  I  am  bound  in  sincerity,  but  in 
all  courtesy,  to  express  it,  by  declaring  that  I  atn 
and  must  continue  to  be  opposed  upon  principle  to 
the  marriage." 

After  this  expression  of  my  sentiments  in  obe- 
dience to  their  request,  I  still  continued  my  visits 
as  a  pastor,  but  soon  perceived  that,  however  po- 
litely these  might  be  received,  they  were  less  ac- 
ceptable than  in  former  times.  Yet,  as  a  clergy- 
man's duties  must  be  discharged  in  the  shade  as 
well  as  in  the  sunshine — under  painful  as  much  as 
under  pleasing  circumstances — I  continued  the  vis- 
its as  before,  and  made  known  to  the  young  lady 
the  arguments  which  are  employed  by  our  learned 
divines  to  confute  the  errors  of  Socinianism  and  to 
prove  the  divinity  of  Christ.  These  arguments, 
confirmed  by  reference  to  the  Scriptures,  were  not 
without  a  good  effect. 

Not  long  afterward  sickness  entered  the  family, 
and  the  young  lady  was  confined  to  her  chamber 
and  her  couch.  I  attended  daily  for  a  consider- 
able time;  at  length,  observing  from  her  remarks 
that  a  favourable  impression  had  been  produced  on 


202  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

her  mind,  ami  that  she  no  longer  regarded  the  ar- 
guments which  assailed  the  plan  of  redemption 
and  the  deity  of  the  Redeemer  as  innocent,  I  said 
to  her :  "  My  dear  young  friend,  your  views  of  the 
Redeemer  and  his  great  work  are  far  more  scrip- 
tural than  they  formerly  were,  but  they  are  still 
defective;  I  am  sure  that  this  illness  has  influenced 
your  mind,  and  is  possibly  one  of  the  ways  by 
which  Providence  is  guiding  you  to  a  correct 
knowledge  of  that  which  relates  to  your  eternal 
welfare.  You  are  in  earnest,  and  I  fully  believe 
in  your  sincerity;  and  under  the  conviction  that 
1  none  shall  seek  God  in  vain,'  I  declare  to  you  this 
day,  in  the  name  of  the  living  God,  that  peace  of 
mind  and  eternal  life  shall  be  yours,  if  you  will 
accept  them  on  the  conditions  given  in  that  very 
book  which  now  lies  by  your  side ;  and  these  are 
the  conditions :  faith  in  Christ  as  God  over  all,  and 
the  making  a  solemn  surrender  of  yourself  and  of 
all  that  relates  to  your  welfare  for  time  and  eter- 
nity, into  the  hands  of  Christ  as  your  Redeemer." 
On  the  following  day  she  informed  me  of  her 
firm  determination  to  relinquish  the  acquaintance 
of  her  Socinian  suitor.  Time  afterward  proved 
the  wisdom  of  this  decision  for  other  reasons  be- 
sides that  of  his  creed.  After  this  declaration  of 


ROBBING  THE  DEAD.  203 

her  Christian  faith,  the  sufferer  appeared  to  make 
rapid  progress  in  the  knowledge  of  divine  things. 
Among  her  first  acts  of  piety  was  a  deep  anxiety 
prudently  manifested  for  the  spiritual  welfare  of 
those  around  her. 

Our  duties  were  now  changed ;  and  I,  who  was 
wont  to  go  to  her  couch  as  her  pastor  and  teacher, 
went  to  learn  from  one  who  appeared  to  live  above 
the  world  while  living  in  it :  a  heavenly  atmos- 
phere seemed  to  be  shed  around  her  chamber,  and 
even  a  visitor  felt  constrained  to  say,  "  Surely  this 
is  the  portal  of  heaven."  Though  unable  to  move 
from  her  couch,  her  faculties  were  not  only  unim- 
paired, but  they  became  more  vigorous.  Her  time 
was  passed  in  prayer,  in  studying  the  Scriptures,  and 
in  very  pious  and  happily-expressed  exhortations 
to  her  mother,  her  sisters  and  her  friends ;  and  by 
the  beautiful  manner  in  which  she  exhibited  piety 
in  her  own  person  she  proved  a  comfort  to  those 
who  came  to  comfort  her. 

Some  time  after  I  said  to  her  and  her  friends : 
"You  must  lend  me  to  some  other  people  for  a 
short  time,  for  I  have  received  an  offer  of  prefer- 
ment, and  I  am  anxious  before  I  decide  to  visit 
that  place." 

She  exclaimed, "  You  are  not  going  to  leave  me  ?" 


204  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

"  Only,"  I  said,  "for  about  ten  clays." 
The  next  evening  being  Saturday,  I  arrived  at 
my  destination,  and  on  the  Sunday  I  undertook 
the  duties  of  the  church,  intending  to  do  the  same 
on  the  following  Sunday,  and  return  at  the  end  of 
the  ten  days.  The  reception  I  met  with  from  the 
patrons  and  others  was  kindness  itself,  courteously 
expressed ;  there  was  everything  to  make  the  visit 
agreeable  to  me ;  yet  on  the  following  morning  I 
arose  greatly  depressed,  and  I  announced  to  my 
kind  host  that,  although  I  was  perfectly  well  in 
health,  I  was  so  unhappy  from  some  unknown  rea- 
son that  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  return  home  imme- 
diately. All  their  influence  failed  to  change  my 
purpose.  Without  the  loss  of  a  moment  I  started 
for  home,  and  on  my  way  the  coach  stopped  for  a 

time  at  the  large  town  of  M . 

A  difficulty  here  presented  itself.  At  a  short 
distance  from  the  town  there  resided  a  benevolent 
man  who  felt  an  interest  in  our  schools,  and  hav- 
ing some  relatives  residing  in  my  parish,  I  thought 
it  possible  that  he  would  give  me  five  pounds  to- 
ward the  infant-school  if  I  could  only  see  him,  as 
he  knew  the  efforts  I  was  making  and  the  need 
there  was  of  funds.  I  walked  to  and  fro  perplexed 
as  I  thought  of  the  wants  of  the  school  and  also 


ROBBING  THE  DEAD.  205 

of  the  state  of  my  sick  friend.  At  length,  so 
strongly  did  the  subject  occupy  my  mind,  that  I 
said  almost  aloud,  "I  will  not  call  on  this  good 
man,  but  I  will  go  home  to  attend  to  one  of  God's 
children,  and  I  will  trust  to  God  to  provide  for  his 
own  schools." 

In  a  few  moments  I  had  resumed  my  seat  in  the 
coach,  under  a  firm  impression  that  I  had  decided 
prudently,  and  that  I  was  in  the  path  of  duty.  I 
reached  my  own  house  at  midnight.  I  found  the 
family  all  up  at  that  unusual  hour,  and  the  mo- 
ment I  entered,  the  cry  was,  "We  are  delighted 
you  have  come  home;  the  young  lady  has  been 
sending  almost  hourly  this  evening  to  know  if  you 
had  returned." 

"  Sending  every  hour !"  I  exclaimed ;  "  how  is 
that  ?  I  stated  to  the  family  that  I  was  to  be  ab- 
sent for  ten  days.  There  could  be  no  misunder- 
standing, for  they  all  knew  it." 

"  True ;  still,  so  it  is ;  they  have  been  sending, 
at  the  sick  lady's  request,  almost  every  hour." 

Hearing  this,  without  any  regard  to  the  time,  I 
started  for  my  friend's  house,  and  reached  it  about 
one  o'clock  in  the  morning.  I  found  the  family 
up,  and  assembled  round  the  couch  of  the  sick  lady. 
The  instant  I  entered,  the  invalid,  gently  raising 


206  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINOS. 

her  hands  to  heaven,  said,  "Thank  God,  thank 
God!  my  prayer  is  answered.  I  felt  sure  you 
would  come.  I  am  dying,  but  I  have  prayed  to 
my  heavenly  Father  that  he  would  not  let  me  die 
until  you  returned,  that  I  might  thank  you  before 
I  die." 

She  then  requested  them  to  raise  her  a  little ; 
and  taking  my  hands  within  her  own,  and  looking 
at  me  most  earnestly,  she  cried  in  a  voice  so  solemn, 
so  earnest,  yet  so  affectionate,  that  it  thrilled 
through  my  heart,  "  Oh,  my  spiritual  father,  my 
brother,  my  friend,  may  the  good  and  great  God 
bless  you  for  what  you  have  done  for  me !  I  am 
dying,  yet  I  am  full  of  joy  and  peace ;  may  every 
mercy  and  every  blessing  descend  upon  you  in  this 
world !  and,  my  best  of  friends,  may  you  and  I  sit 
down  together  at  the  marriage-supper  of  the 
Lamb !"  Thus  saying,  she  reclined  her  head  on 
her  couch  and  died. 

With  palpitating  heart  I  returned  home  filled 
with  joy,  though  borne  down  with  sorrow.  How 
great  the  privilege  to  receive  the  fervent  blessing 
of  one  whose  gentle  spirit  was  just  entering  the 
regions  of  light ! 

In  the  morning,  at  an  early  hour,  I  again  visited 
the  family,  and  described  to  them  the  sense  of  deso- 


ROBBING   THE  DEAD.  207 

lation  which  I  had  experienced  during  my  late  ab- 
sence, explaining  that,  although  among  the  most 
attentive  of  friends,  this  feeling  of  sadness  had 
caused  me  to  change  all  my  plans,  to  give  up  my 
visit  and  without  loss  of  time  return  home.  I 
mentioned  also  my  deliberation  as  I  passed  through 

the  town  of  M ,  and  my  resolution,  although 

it  might  be  a  loss  of  five  pounds  to  the  school,  to 
go  home  and  try  to  comfort  one  of  God's  servants, 
trusting  the  care  of  the  school  to  God's  providence. 
I  then  produced  a  letter  which  the  postman  had 
put  into  my  hands  as  I  came  out  of  the  house  that 
morning.  The  letter  was  from  the  merchant  I 
mentioned  as  likely  to  contribute  five  pounds  to- 
ward the  school,  if  I  could  have  called  upon  him 
and  explained  our  position  from  want  of  funds. 
The  letter  was  very  short,  and  simply  said  that  he 

had  heard  of  my  being  in  M ,  and  that  as  I 

had  passed  through  his  town  without  coming  to  see 
him,  he  would  punish  me  for  my  neglect — which 
he  did  by  enclosing  me  fifty  pounds.  Who  shall 
say  that  God  will  not  provide  for  his  own  work? 
I  then  alluded  to  the  high  tone  of  piety  shown  by 
the  departed  during  her  illness,  and  asked  if  it 
were  not  their  wish  to  partake  of  her  joy  and  to  be 
sharers  in  her  felicity.  I  asked  them  if  they  would 


208  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

accompany  me  into  the  other  room,  and  there,  with 
minds  solemnized  by  the  scene,  join  with  me  in 
kneeling  by  the  side  of  their  sainted  sister,  praying 
that  by  God's  influence  upon  their  minds  there 
might  be  no  separation  in  an  eternal  world,  and 
that  on  the  morn  of  the  resurrection  we  might  all 
arise  to  behold  Christ  as  our  Redeemer,  and  receive 
his  blessing. 

They  all  readily  complied,  and  the  proposal  ap- 
peared to  bring  relief  to  their  sorrow.  After  gaz- 
ing upon  the  beautiful  and  placid  form  of  the 
departed,  we  all  knelt  in  prayer  to  Christ  for  his 
divine  blessing  upon  the  survivors,  asking  that  we 
might  become  part  of  Christ's  holy  family,  and  be 
interested  in  all  the  mercies  of  God  obtained  for 
the  penitent  and  believing  through  the  atonement. 
As  God  works  by  means,  and  as  prayer  was  offered 
to  Him  who  appointed  it  and  who  promised  to 
bless  it,  I  humbly  trust  and  believe  that  the  "sigh- 
ings  of  a  contrite  heart  and  the  desires  of  them 
that  were  penitent"  were  heard  and  answered  on 
that  occasion,  for  from  that  day  the  afflicted  mother 
and  the  weeping  sisters  were  in  the  midst  of  their 
grief  made  partakers  of  the  departed  sister's 

joy- 

"  May  I  not,  my  dear  friend,  say  that  a  most 


ROBBING  THE  DEAD.  209 

remarkable  train  of  providences  has  occurred  since 
I  last  was  your  guest  ?" 

"  I  grant  it  most  readily,"  said  Mr.  M . 

"  But  I  have  not  yet  finished,"  was  my  reply, 
"  for  I  have  a  third  part  to  add." 

"  What  was  it  ?  I  long  to  hear  it,  for  one  fact 
tells  more  than  a  hundred  arguments." 

"  As  you  may  suppose,  the  fifty  pounds  coming 
to  me  at  that  moment,  and  under  those  circum- 
stances, caused  me  more  pleasure  than  I  can  ex- 
press, and  far  more  than  the  donation  itself  could 
confer.  I  am  not  very  fond  of  silent  gratitude : 
if  we  feel  thankful  to  God  or  to  man,  we  ought  to 
show  it,  you  know.  I  thanked  my  benevolent 
friend  of  course,  but  I  did  not  end  here ;  for  being 
delighted  with  his  generosity,  I  made  known  in  my 
pastoral  visits  this  kind  act,  to  be  added  to  many 
others  which  the  people  of  the  town  had  received 
at  his  hands.  Not  many  months  after  the  receipt 
of  his  letter,  a  vacancy  occurred  in  the  represen- 
tation of  the  town  in  parliament,  and  I  urged  this 
kind-hearted  man,  as  I  knew  he  possessed  experi- 
ence, leisure  and  ample  means,  to  oifer  himself  as 
a  candidate ;  and  although  I  could  take  no  part  in 
the  election,  I  heartily  wished  him  success.  He 
complied  with  this  wish,  and  presented  himself  be- 

14 


210  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

fore  his  constituents  at  the  proper  time.  His  po- 
litical views  were  in  unison  with  the  spirit  of  the 
place,  and  the  result  was  shown  in  my  receiving,  a 
few  weeks  afterward,  what  my  friend  termed  an 
invitation  to  a  gentleman  to  dine  in  a  kitchen.  I 
accepted  the  invitation,  and  saw  on  the  occasion,  as 
my  neighbours,  the  late  Sir  Robert  Peel  and  other 
members  of  parliament  dining  at  Bellamy's,  which 
was  generally  known  as  *  the  Kitchen '  of  the  old 
House  of  Commons. 

"Here,  my  good  sir,  ends  my  illustration  of  your 
text  when  we  last  met  in  this  room :  '  He  that 
watches  the  hand  of  Providence  will  never  want  a 
providence  to  watch ;'  and  I,  while  I  live,  shall 
ever  bless  God  that  I  read  the  paragraph  headed . 
'  Robbing  the  Dead.' " 


COMPROMISE. 


F  you  are  really  in  earnest  in  seeking  the 
kingdom  of  heaven,  Henry,  you  must  give 
up  bad  companions." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  have  any,  mother." 
"  There  is  Alfred  Wilson." 
"  But  he  is  not  bad,  he  is  only  careless.     It  is 
true  he  does  not  think  of  religion  just  as  I  do,  but 
then  he  will  perhaps  in  time." 

"  You  admit  he  is  careless,  that  is  he  is  lax  in  his 
principles,  worldly  in  his  tastes  and  irreligious  in 
his  habits.  He  has  a  great  influence  over  you,  and 
will  certainly  hinder  your  progress  in  religion. 
You  cannot  continue  to  be  his  constant  friend  and 
companion,  as  you  have  been,  and  yet  be  devoted 
to  God." 

"I  think  you  are  a  little  prejudiced,  mother. 
You  never  liked  him,  but  a  young  man  cannot 

shut  himself  out  of  society,  and  Alfred,  besides 

211 


212  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

being  such  a  fine-spirited  fellow,  knows  such  first- 
rate  people;  and  besides,  he  is  in  partnership  with 
his  uncle,  who  by  and  by  will  retire,  and  then  lie 
means  to  take  me  in.  It  will  be  a  considerable 
advantage  to  me,  for  although  of  course  I  shall 
take  my  own  connection  in  with  me,  theirs  is  such 
an  old-established  house." 

"You  cannot  serve  both  God  and  mammon. 
The  first-rate  company  which  has  lately  so  much 
absorbed  you  will  draw  away  your  heart  from 
Christ;  and  how  can  you  pretend  to  be  seeking 
first  the  kingdom  of  God,  if  you  closely  ally  your 
interests  with  one  who  never  takes  your  Master's 
claims  into  consideration  ?  As  to  this  partnership 
scheme,  I  altogether  disapprove  of  it." 

"  Oh,  mother,  you  are  too  severe.  It  really  will 
not  answer  nowadays.  Besides,  our  Saviour  ate 
and  drank  with  publicans  and  sinners." 

"That  he  might  instruct  and  thereby  save  them. 
I  would  not  have  you  give  up  the  soul  of  your 
friend  without  an  attempt  to  do  him  good.  But  if 
he  is  bent  on  '  living  to  himself/  then  part  company, 
or  he  will  draw  you  away  from  right." 

Henry  sighed.  "Talk  to  Alfred  Wilson  about 
his  soul,  indeed!  Mother,  I  am  yet  but  a  seeker; 
how  can  I  teach  ?" 


COMPROMISE.  213 

"You  can  warn,  you  can  state  your  own  convic- 
tions, you  can  say  how  important  you  feel  this  mat- 
ter to  be,  how  firmly  you  are  resolved  to  begin  to 
lead  a  new  life,  without  professing  to  have  already 
obtained  what  I  pray  God  may  soon  be  yours." 

After  a  short  silence,  Mrs.  Roberts  resumed: 
"  My  dear  boy,  I  know  you  are  attached  to  Mr. 
Wilson,  but  it  is  a  friendship  that  will  do  you  no 
good,  and  may  possibly  do  you  much  harm." 

Henry  Roberts  had  from  infancy  been  instructed 
in  the  way  of  salvation.  He  had  often  been  under 
conviction,  but  his  attention  had  soon  been  caught 
away  and  the  good  seed  choked,  though  of  late  it 
seemed  as  if  his  mother's  prayers  were  to  be  fully  an- 
swered, and  the  most  serious  impressions  dwelt  on 
the  young  man's  mind.  But  he  could  not  find 
peace,  for  he  would  not  give  up  all  for  Christ ;  he 
could  not  give  up  his  most  promising  business  ar- 
rangements, nor  dare  the  ridicule  of  his  worldly 
acquaintances.  At  the  head  of  these  stood  Alfred 
Wilson,  uniting  all  these  difficulties  in  his  own  per- 
son ;  and  it  is  probable,  if  Henry  could  have  acted 
toward  him  as  his  mother  recommended,  other 
efforts  would  have  proved  easy.  This  state  of 
things  lasted  some  time,  and  Henry  was  perfectly 
wretched,  never  finding  courage  to  speak  to  his 


214  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

friend,  until  one  day  the  other  asked  him  what  was 
the  matter.  Thus  driven  into  a  corner,  Henry  took 
courage  and  answered : 

"  I  have  been  thinking  a  good  deal  lately,  Wil- 
son, on  religious  subjects." 

"  More's  the  pity,  then,  if  it's  to  take  all  the  life 
out  of  you.  I  half  suspected  it  when  you  made 
an  excuse  for  not  going  to  the  theatre  the  other 
night." 

"  But,  Alfred,  must  not  a  man  think  about  such 
things  some  time  ?" 

"Oh  yes,  when  the  right  time  comes.  Probably 
when  I  marry  and  become  a  householder,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing,  I  shall  be  more  thoughtful.  I'm 
young  enough  at  present,  and  so  are  you,  and  we 
have  to  make  ourselves  a  position  in  the  world." 

Henry  faltered  out :  "  Now  is  the  accepted  time. 
I  almost  wish  you  saw  the  matter  as  I  do.  I — I 
feel  rather  strongly  on  this  point." 

Alfred  laughed  :  "  Oh  !  what,  I  ?  no,  thank  you. 
If  you  feel  strongly,  I  would  not  for  the  world  hurt 
your  feelings.  A  man  has  a  right  to  his  own  opin- 
ions, but  don't  preach  to  me.  I'll  not  interfere 
with  your  notions  if  you'll  not  try  to  drive  them 
on  my  acceptance.  I  think  we'd  better  agree  not 
to  talk  on  the  subject.  Mind,  I  don't  like  them, 


COMPROMISE.  215 

they  make  you  miserable,  but  I'll  not  interfere  with 
them.  So  you  shall  have  your  own  way  if  you'll 
let  me  have  mine." 

And  so  the  conversation  terminated.  Conscience 
was  busy  whispering:  "Tell  him  that  two  cannot 
walk  together  unless  they  be  agreed  ;  that  you  feel 
this  subject  of  so  great  importance  that  you  cannot 
suppress  your  convictions  without  failing  in  your 
duty  to  God,  to  yourself,  to  your  friend."  But 
Henry  refused  to  hear,  and  his  unhappiness  was 
greatly  increased. 

Alfred  Wilson  was  an  orphan.  His  father  was 
a  godly  man,  but  he  lost  him  and  his  mother  when 
very  young.  He  had  been  brought  up  by  an  uncle 
whose  soul  was  absorbed  in  business,  and  he  had  no 
idea  of  religion.  He  considered  his  friend  in  the 
light  of  an  unfortunate  enthusiast,  and  without  any 
malicious  intention  of  leading  him  back  to  sin,  tried 
every  means  of  diverting  his  thoughts.  Whenever 
he  proposed  any  amusement  to  which  Henry  would 
offer  a  faint  conscientious  objection,  Alfred  would 
at  once  give  up  the  point,  and  without  argument 
substitute  a  stroll  or  something  unquestionably 
harmless.  The  subject  was  nevermore  referred  to 
between  them.  Henry  had  not  courage,  and  Alfred 
thought  his  friend  would  come  to  his  senses  better 


216  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

without  any  interference.  "  I've  noticed,"  lie  would 
say  to  himself,  "that  opposing  these  religious  peo- 
ple makes  them  worse.  They  think  themselves 
martyrs  and  champions,  and  get  awfully  obstinate 
and  contradicting." 

Henry  had  not  strength  of  mind  enough  to  with- 
draw from  this  dangerous  companionship,  and  so 
by  little  and  little  conscience  was  once  more  laid 
asleep,  and  this  time  more  soundly  than  ever.  As 
he  lost  his  religious  impressions,  he  became  increas- 
ingly absorbed  in  business.  Money-making  seemed 
to  become  the  one  object  and  interest  of  his  life. 

His  mother  ceased  her  pleadings,  for  he  so  evi- 
dently considered  the  subject  an  annoyance,  and  so 
constantly  answered  that  he  had  no  time  to  attend 
to  such  things,  that  she  feared  to  do  more  harm 
than  good  by  a  repetition  of  her  arguments.  She 
therefore  waited  another  opportunity,  and  mean- 
while appealed  constantly  to  the  throne  of  mercy 
on  his  behalf. 

Even  Alfred  Wilson  remonstrated,  saying,  "You 
run  to  as  great  an  excess  in  hard  bargaining  as  you 
once  did  in  enthusiastic  notions,  and  of  the  two  I 
would  rather  see  a  man  weak  than  hard.  You're 
growing  a  regular  screw ;  it's  not  natural  at  your 
age." 


COMPROMISE.  217 

Mr.  Wilson,  senior,  was  a  merchant  with  a  very 
extensive  business.  One  of  the  most  important  of 
his  agents  was  stationed  at  a  seaport  town  on  the 
west  coast  of  England ;  and  as  his  employer's  in- 
terests had  suffered  through  his  dishonesty,  it  was 
thought  better  that  the  junior  partner  in  the  firm 
of  Wilson  Brothers  should  take  his  place,  and  re- 
side there  for  some  short  time  until  affairs  were 
properly  arranged.  Alfred  therefore  started  for 
the  scene  of  confusion,  and  found  both  his  time  and 
his  temper  scarcely  sufficient  to  meet  the  demands 
made  on  them.  As  soon,  however,  as  he  began  to 
see  clearly  through  the  entangled  accounts,  he  also 
began  to  take  a  little  relaxation ;  and  though  he 
still  devoted  rather  more  than  business  hours  to  the 
duty  of  the  office,  he  contrived  to  form  acquaint- 
ances, and  cultivate  one  or  two  of  his  father's  old 
friends.  True,  he  thought  them  rather  "  slow,"  as 
he  said,  but  he  revered  his  father's  memory,  and 
would  not  slight  any  one  who  had  been  attached  to 
him. 

Amongst  others  was  the  old  vicar  of  the  parish, 
who  turned  out  to  be  one  of  his  father's  oldest  and 
most  intimate  friends.  The  old  gentleman  took  a 
great  liking  to  Alfred  for  his  father's  sake,  and  he 
was  soon  received  in  the  family  with  unreserved 


218  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

cordiality.  The  lessons,  and  still  more  the  life,  of 
the  worthy  vicar  were,  by  God's  blessing,  made  the 
means  of  working  an  entire  change  in  Alfred's 
thoughts  and  feelings.  He  loved  the  old  man  with 
filial  affection,  and  well  he  might,  for  he  was  to  him 
a  spiritual  father.  It  is  not  surprising,  therefore, 
that  after  some  time  the  vicar  gave  his  hearty  as- 
sent to  an  engagement  being  formed  between  Alfred 
and  his  only  daughter,  whose  external  graces  and 
accomplishments  were  crowned  by  the  higher  qual- 
ities of  good  sense  and  true  piety. 

When  Alfred  Wilson  returned  to  town  his  old 
friends  and  companions  were  struck  by  the  change 
in  his  appearance.  Grave  and  thoughtful,  he  cared 
nothing  for  the  companions  in  pleasure  whose  so- 
ciety he  had  once  enjoyed.  Any  reference  to  his 
changed  manners  was  evidently  annoying  to  him ; 
and  though  he  would  on  such  a  hint  rouse  himself 
to  be  polite  and  even  cordial,  the  attempt  was 
but  evanescent,  and  his  former  worldly  com- 
panions understood  not  the  cause  of  his  altered 
manner. 

His  former  carelessness  of  life  was  now  a  source 
of  humiliation  and  grief  to  him.  Now  that  his 
eyes  were  opened,  how  culpable  his  former  disre- 
gard of  what  now  seemed  of  infinite  importance  I 


COMPROMISE.  219 

He  could  no  longer  gainsay  the  truths  and  claims 
of  the  gospel.  Then,  in  what  danger  he  had  been 
content  to  live,  and  now  he  scarcely  ventured  to 
believe  the  possibility  of  his  salvation  !  Removed 
from  the  kind  and  wise  counsel  of  his  spiritual 
father,  his  heart  was  prone  to  fall  into  despondency, 
looking  at  his  own  sinfulness  and  weakness,  instead 
of  looking  at  the  grace  and  sufficiency  of  the  Saviour. 
He  now  found  himself  longing  for  that  frame  of  mind 
he  had  once  thought  so  undesirable ;  for  the  terrors 
of  the  broken  law  and  the  consciousness  of  past 
guilt  on  one  hand,  with  shame  and  contrition  on 
the  other  for  a  so  long  neglected  salvation,  filled  his 
days  with  gloom.  He  no  longer  tried  to  compro- 
mise with  God;  he  sincerely  and  perseveringly 
sought  the  joys  of  the  great  salvation,  and,  accord- 
ing to  the  promise  of  the  Most  High,  his  prayers 
were  not  in  vain.  He  sought  and  found  peace  in 
believing. 

Relieved  from  his  load  of  sorrow  and  rejoicing 
in  God,  his  natural  character  once  more  asserted 
itself,  but  with  new  and  better  aims.  The  energy, 
the  impulsive  feelings,  the  flow  of  bright  spirits, 
now,  instead  of  seeking  employment  in  the  haunts 
of  gayety,  carried  him  unflagging  through  works 
of  obedience  and  charity.  He  was  indeed  often 


220  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

obliged  to  be  checked  in  his  zeal  by  wiser  because 
more  experienced  heads;  but  whilst  he  had  the 
good  sense  to  defer  to  their  opinion,  he  continued 
in  a  course  of  ceaseless  activity.  Scheme  after 
scheme,  work  after  work,  were  brought  forward  by 
his  earnest  thought  or  carried  through  by  his  busy 
hands.  Too  brave  to  fear  ridicule,  too  warm- 
hearted to  see  his  old  friends  destitute  of  the  bless- 
ing he  possessed,  he  sought  them  out,  he  argued 
with  them,  he  urged  upon  their  attention  a  change 
of  heart ;  and  when  they  absolutely  refused  to  hear, 
he  parted  company  with  them,  but  not  till  he  had 
often  repeated  his  attempts. 

With  some  of  them,  to  his  great  joy,  he  suc- 
ceeded, and  amongst  the  number  was  Henry  Rob- 
erts. Immersed  in  the  cares  of  business,  Roberts 
long  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  his  entreaties,  but  Wil- 
son, considering  himself  as  partly  the  cause  of  his 
friend's  apostasy,  had  long  patience  with  him.  At 
last  even  Wilson  felt  reluctantly  that  it  was  vain  to 
persevere,  and  sorrowfully  bade  him  farewell.  "I 
cannot  say  any  more  to  you  than  I  have  said ;  you 
will  not  tolerate  the  subject  of  religion,  and  I  can 
have  no  companion  who  objects  to  its  introduction, 
for  it  is  constantly  present  in  my  thoughts." 

"  But  the  partnership  ?"  said  Roberts,  startled. 


COMPROMISE,  221 

"Must  drop  through.  I  have  no  hope  that  our 
business  arrangements  would  work  amicably  when 
we  should  conduct  them  on  such  different  prin- 
ciples." 

"You  are  thinking  of  making  some  arrange- 
ment more  advantageous  to  you,"  answered  Rob- 
erts, still  believing  in  a  merely  interested  motive. 

"  No ;  I  have  thought  of  taking  in  P ,  for 

my  uncle  is  preparing  to  retire.  But  though  it 
would  be  to  my  advantage  to  take  you,  I  cannot  do 
it," 

Roberts  went  home  and  thought  deeply.  He 
saw  that  Wilson  was  sacrificing  his  pecuniary  in- 
terests to  his  religion ;  he  felt  that  he  was  sincere 
or  he  would  not  have  taken  so  decided  a  step.  He 
remembered,  too,  that  if  he  had  but  had  equal 
courage  long  ago  he  might  have  been  saved  the 
mortification  he  that  day  experienced.  His  friend's 
pleadings  he  had  disregarded,  but  his  arrow  sent  at 
a  venture  had  come  home,  for  it  filled  him  with 
shame  for  the  past. 

There  is  no  need  to  dwell  further  on  this.  The 
widow's  prayers  were  answered  by  these  events  in 
God's  good  providence.  Henry  at  last  joined 
himself  heartily  to  the  flock  of  Christ.  The  two 
young  men  went  into  business  together,  and  were 


222 


RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 


as  zealous  in  their  works  of  charity  as  in  their 
commercial  undertakings;  and  Wilson  brought 
home  another  partner  to  his  hearth,  a  partner  for 
life — who,  it  is  not  necessary  to  say. 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER, 

OR  THE  LOST  BOOK. 


CHAPTER  I. 

|EPEND  on  it,  there's  a  great  deal  lost  by 

not  looking  round  the  corner. 

In  that  old  eating-house  in  Swan  lane, 

for  instance,  not  a  ray  of  sunshine  entered 
more  than  was  enough  to  make  the  darkness  visi- 
ble. How  could  it  be  otherwise  ?  Was  not  there 
a  row  of  houses  opposite,  and  such  a  narrow  di- 
vision between  that  you  could  almost  shake  hands 
across,  as  in  some  of  the  wynds  of  the  old  city  of 
Edinburgh  ?  In  order  that  the  customers  might 
see  what  they  bought  a  lamp  was  burning  at  the 
back  of  the  shop ;  but  then  what  was  that  com- 
pared with  the  fresh,  bright  sunshine?  Such  a 
window,  too,  it  had  to  let  in  the  light,  and  such 
arrangements  to  keep  it  out !  The  window  was  not 
very  large,  and  the  heavy  casing  made  it  less ;  the 
glass  was  of  ancient  date,  in  small  squares,  some 

223 


224  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

greenish,  some  yellowish,  some  cracked  and  mended 
with  strips  of  paper,  and  a  heavy  ledge,  like  a 
huge  eyebrow,  hung  over  the  top.  Its  arrange- 
ments completed  its  character.  Sausages  in  ropes 
and  black  puddings  in  rings  hung  over  the  panes 
that  could  best  be  seen  through  ;  and  huge  masses 
of  questionable-looking  pudding,  with  piles  of 
equally  questionable-looking  mutton-pies,  wholly 
obscured  the  lower  part.  So  the  only  hope  for 
business  was  to  make  the  best  of  the  lamp,  and 
the  only  hope  for  heart's  ease  and  health  was  to 
look  round  the  corner. 

The  corner!     What  corner? 

Why,  just  seven  houses  lower  down  there  was  a 
break  in  the  lane,  and  though  the  corner  house, 
being  a  broker's,  did  all  in  its  power  to  destroy  the 
blessing  of  that  fact  by  putting  out  dismal  relics 
of  venerable  household  goods,  and  so  filling  up  the 
gap,  yet  there  was  a  thoroughfare  left,  and  if  you 
took  a  judicious  stand,  so  as  to  get  a  sight  between 
two  legs  of  a  table  hoisted  on  a  miscellaneous  base, 
you  might  see  enough  to  induce  you  to  thread  your 
way  among  the  articles,  and,  fairly  turning  the  cor- 
ner, to  walk  down  the  friendly  avenue  to  a  bright 
and  healthy  scene.  Yes,  bright  and  healthy,  com- 
posed of  fields  with  hedges  and  hedgerow  timber; 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         225 

in  the  summer  yellow  with  buttercups,  in  the  au- 
tumn lilac  with  the  meadow  saffron,  and  even  in 
winter  presenting  a  delightful  expanse,  though 
covered  with  snow.  For  Swan  lane  was  a  border 
district — almost  the  very  hem  we  may  say  of  the 
town — and  it  was  puzzling  to  think  how  anything 
so  dark  and  dismal  should  be  so  close  to  a  region 
of  light. 

Dark  and  dismal !  If  Quality  Fogg  had  been 
told  it  was  dark  and  dismal,  he  would  have  pitied 
the  speaker  as  one  deluded.  To  him  there  was  no 
place  so  pleasant  in  summer,  so  genial  in  winter, 
as  his  shop — the  eating-house  with  the  lamp  at  the 
back. 

Mr.  Luggett,  "  the  auctioneer,"  as  he  was  styled 
by  courtesy,  seven  doors  lower  down,  was  a  busi- 
ness man  and  a  bustling  man ;  he  was  out  early 
and  late,  setting  up  and  taking  down  his  furniture, 
putting  it  into  more  enticing  positions,  building 
more  picturesque  pyramids.  But  he  was  an  idler 
compared  with  Quality ;  often  you  might  see  him 
standing  before  a  pile  of  broken  chairs  haranguing 
the  landlord  of  "The  Three  Tuns,"  who  lived  at 
the  opposite  corner,  on  politics  by  the  half  hour 
together,  and  sometimes  beyond  it;  often,  too,  you 
might  see  him  when  customers  wore  slack,  with  his 

15 


226  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

arms  crossed  behind  his  back,  walking  leisurely 
down  the  street  toward  the  buttercups  and  daisies, 
where  he  would  watch  the  lads  at  cricket  or  dis- 
cuss the  news  of  the  day  with  some  fellow-idler. 

In  truth,  Mr.  Luggett,  as  was  well  known,  hav- 
ing been  a  busy  business  man  for  many  years,  had 
amassed  a  considerable  property,  and  was  at  lib- 
erty now  to  add  to  it  or  not  as  he  chose.  So  he 
took  things  more  easily  than  he  had  done  in  old 
times ;  but  for  all  that,  he  was  true  to  the  maxim, 
"  Business  first  and  pleasure  afterward ;"  the  differ- 
ence between  him  and  Quality  being  this,  that  with 
Quality  business  and  pleasure  were  identical.  The 
brightest  scene  imagination  could  paint  would  have 
faded  in  Quality's  eyes  before  the  back  of  his  shop, 
where  he  sat  behind  a  canvas  screen  when  no  cus- 
tomers were  waiting  for  him  and  no  work  of  ar- 
rangement among  the  dainties  in  the  window  de- 
manded his  attention. 

Behind  this  screen,  over  which  hung  the  lamp, 
lighting  both  sides  of  it,  was  a  small  heavy  table 
with  a  close-fitting  drawer  and  sound  lock.  At 
this,  when  he  was  at  liberty  for  such  part  of  his 
business,  he  would  go  over  his  accounts,  make  out 
his  little  bills  and  cast  up  all  his  expectations. 

No  one  could  open  the  shop  door  without  tink- 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         227 

ling  a  bell  that  hung  to  it,  and  the  first  vibration 
brought  him  out,  like  a  spider  after  a  fly,  face  to 
face  with  the  visitor.  Whoever  that  visitor  was, 
whether  a  matron  of  imposing  aspect  for  a  stout 
dish  of  ham  and  beef  or  an  urchin  not  up  to  the 
counter  for  a  penny  pie,  it  mattered  not  to  him ;  he 
was  urbanity  always,  with  his  pen  behind  his  ear 
and  his  spectacles  pushed  up  on  his  forehead ;  his 
mild  voice  and  his  smile  so  gentle  greeted  all  alike, 
and  although  his  articles  were  in  high  reputation, 
and  he  wras  considered  liberal  in  his  prices,  it  is 
doubtful  if  he  did  not  owe  much  of  his  business  to 
his  own  personal  merits. 

It  was  December,  and  late  in  the  month.  The 
snow  had  fallen  somewhat  thickly  for  several  days, 
and  all  appearances  were  in  favour  of  an  early 
winter  and  a  hard  one.  Quality  was  at  his  little 
table;  he  had  not  been  disturbed  for  the  last  half 
hour,  and  he  was  deep  in  his  ledger. 

"  Tucker,"  he  said—"  Tucker,  fol.  89."  And  he 
turned  to  "fol.  89"  in  his  ledger. 

"  Ah,  but  this  isn't  near  all  of  it,"  he  said ; 
"  she  owes  me  as  much  again  as  this,  I  know.  Let 
me  see."  And  he  went  carefully  over  the  items 
and  frowned  over  the  dates. 

"  It  must  be  in  the  old  ledger.    That's  it !"  he 


228  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

cried.  An.d  opening  the  table  drawer,  lie  brought 
out  the  old  ledger,  and  turning  to  T,  soon  found 
Tucker. 

"  Ah,  ha !  here  we  are.  Yes,  yes ;  I  knew  it 
must  be  more  than  that.  '  Part  of  chine,  weigh- 
ing Gibs.,  at  6d. ;'  to  be  sure,  that  was  the  first 
thing  against  her;  I  remember  it.  Well,  it's 
time  it  was  paid.  I  wonder  what  makes  her  so 
slow  about  it?  She  used  to  be  as  ready  as  any 
one — readier  than  most.  I  must  look  her  up." 

And  taking  a  long  slip  of  paper  with  the  regu- 
lar ruling,  he  headed  it  with  a  neat  flourish, 

Mrs.  Sarah  Tucker  to  Quality  Fogg. 

And  against  the  date  made  the  first  entry :  "  To 
part  of  a  chine  of  pork,"  etc. 

He  was  so  busy,  so  much  interested  in  his  work, 
that  for  once  the  bell  tinkled  without  arousing 
him ;  he  heard  it  indeed,  but  his  ledger  threw  a 
spell  around  him  and  kept  him  at  his  table. 

But  it  was  not  for  long;  he  started  up,  stuck  his 
pen  behind  his  ear  and  faced  a  little  girl  who  was 
delighting  her  eyes  with  the  endless  riches  of  the 
window. 

"What  is  it,  my  dear?"  he  asked  with  as  much 
serenity  as  if  he  had  not  been  in  the  least  inter- 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         229 

rupted,  and  as  much  politeness  as  if  his  customer 
had  been  Mrs.  Tucker  herself  come  to  pay  her  bill. 

"  My  mother  says  will  you  let  me  have  all  the 
beef  you  can  for  this?"  said  the  child,  laying  a 
fourpenny  piece  on  the  counter. 

"  Beef,  my  dear  ?"  said  Quality ;  "  beef  is  very 
expensive — beef  like  mine.  I  couldn't  cut  you  much 
for  that,  not  enough  for  a  family.  These  beautful 
puddings  are  very  cheap,  and  much  more  profit- 
able ;  these  links  are  threepence  apiece,  but  as  it's 
Christmas-time  and  yon  are  a  regular  customer, 
I'll  let  you  have  two  for  your  fourpenny  bit.  Go 
back  and  ask  your  mother  whether  she  will  have 
them  instead  of  the  beef." 

The  little  girl  looked  wistfully  on  the  puddings 
as  he  dangled  them  on  his  finger,  but  she  said, 
"  The  beef  is  for  Tommy ;  it  isn't  for  us." 

"  For  Tommy !  what,  your  little  brother  ?"  asked 
Quality. 

"  Yes ;  he's  very  ill ;  he  can't  eat  potatoes,  and 
mother  thought  he  might  fancy  a  little  of  your 
beef.  He  said  it  looked  as  red  as  the  ham  the  last 
time  he  came  to  the  shop,  and  he  has  often  talked 
about  it  since,"  answered  the  child. 

"Well,  to  be  sure!"  cried  Quality.  "Then  he 
Bhall  have  a  slice,  that  he  shall ;  and  you  can  tell 


230  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

him  I  have  sent  it  to  him  for  a  Christmas-box,  as 
he  is  an  old  customer,  poor  little  fellow !  I  hope  he 
will  soon  be  better,  that  I  do."  And  turning  to 
the  round  of  beef,  that  did  indeed  look  as  red  as 
the  ham,  he  cut  a  very  delicate  slice,  large  but  thin 
as  lace,  and  rolled  it  up  in  a  tolerably  clean  piece 
of  paper. 

"  Here,  my  dear,  this  is  for  Tommy ;  and  let  me 
pick  out  two  nice  puddings  for  your  money." 

Then  he  went  gravely  over  the  puddings,  but 
ended  his  search  by  declaring  he  believed  there  was 
no  difference  in  them — all  were  equally  good ;  so 
he  gave  her  the  two  he  had  first  picked  out,  and 
added  a  small  slice  of  plum-pudding  for  herself. 

The  child  held  her  pinafore  for  her  unexpected 
treasures,  smiled  gratefully,  and  said,  "  A  happy 
Christmas  to  you,  Mr.  Fogg,  and  thank  you 
kindly." 

"  Good  child !  same  to  you,"  said  Quality,  re- 
turning the  smile  as  he  watched  her  out  of  the 
shop. 

"  Nice,  tidy  little  thing !"  he  said  to  himself  as 
he  returned  to  his  table;  "tidy  people  they  are 
altogether.  The  mother  is  superior,  very  superior. 
I  doubt  they  are  poor,  very  poor.  Ah,  dear !  it's 
wonderful  how  some  do  to  live !" 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         231 

Then/  pulling  down  his  spectacles  and  taking 
his  pen  from  his  ear,  he  returned  once  more  to 
Mrs.  Tucker. 

"To  a  dish  of  a-la-mode  beef,  Is.  4d.  A-la- 
niode  beef!  good  thought!  I  haven't  made  any 
this  winter.  Beef  being  so  dear,  I  thought  it 
mightn't  answer,  but  I  think  I  will ;  it's  a  nice 
thing,  a  very  nice  thing.  Then  when  you  con- 
sider what  a  good  way  it  is  of  getting  rid  of  the 
bite,  though  to  be  sure,  one  can  put  them  into 
pies,  but  still  they  make  up  better  in  the  a-la- 
mode ;  and  then  I  can  serve  it  strong  or  weak,  as 
customers  can.  pay  for  it ;  and  if  it's  ever  so  wa- 
tered, it  makes  a  comfortable  dish  for  a  poor  family 
to  help  the  potatoes !  I'll  get  some  beef  to-mor- 
row and  make  it;  and — and — maybe  I'll  send  a 
little  to  Tommy  Grant,  poor  fellow !" 

Mrs.  Tucker's  bill,  notwithstanding  these  inter- 
ruptions, proceeded  till  even  Quality  himself  felt 
timid  at  its  length. 

"But  she  has  had  it  all,  every  article,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "I  hate  long  bills;  if  people  pay  as  they 
go,  they  know  they  have  their  money's  worth,  but 
when  they  leave  it  to  putting  down,  they  always 
think  much  of  it,  whatever  it  is !  And  she's  sure 
to  say  when  she  gets  this,  '  Mr.  Fogg,  I  don't 


232  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

remember  them  sausages ;'  or,  '  Dear  Mr.  Fogg, 
isn't  it  a  mistake  about  that  griskin  ?' " 

As  he  laid  the  bill  aside,  finished  and  ready  for 
delivery,  he  looked  over  the  old  ledger  before  put- 
ting it  back  in  the  drawer,  standing  as  he  did  so, 
for  he  was  cramped  with  sitting ;  and  although  he 
had  a  glowing  chafing-dish  near  his  feet  and  the 
shop  was  warm  by  means  of  a  baker's  oven  next 
door,  he  felt  cold. 

"  I  won't  do  any  more  to-night,"  he  thought, 
still  holding  the  ledger;  "I'll  just  shift  the  shop, 
and  then  have  my  supper  and  go  to  bed." 

Yet,  as  he  said  the  words,  he  stood  turning  over 
leaf  after  leaf  and  commenting  on  the  names  that 
met  his  eye. 

"Dillboy.  Ah,  he's  dead,  poor  fellow!  He 
made  a  bad  end  of  it,  but  he  didn't  owe  me  any- 
thing; very  honest  in  his  way,  poor  fellow !  That 
drink  (what  a  shocking  thing  it  is  !)  ruined  him, 
and  killed  him  at  last;  and  such  a  fine  hearty  fel- 
low as  he  was,  and  leaving  all  those  children  to 
go  to  rack  and  ruin  ;  very  bad  !  very  wrong !  But 
there !  God  is  very  merciful.  I  hope  he  was  for- 
given at  last. 

"  Davis.  An  old  screw  ;  used  to  bate  me  down 
till  I  was  forced  to  tell  him  civilly  he  might  take 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         233 

it  or  leave  it.  He's  gone,  and  his  money's  scattered 
among  people  he  wouldn't  have  given  a  pin's 
head  to  when  he  was  alive.  Give !  why  he  almost 
starved  himself  because  he  hadn't  the  heart  to  let 
a  penny  go.  Well,  I'm  glad  nobody  can  lay  it  to 
my  door  that  I'm  a  screw.  No,  whatever  I  am,  I 
am  not  that." 

And  so  he  went  on  from  name  to  name ;  very  few 
of  those  at  the  end,  none  of  those  at  the  beginning, 
belonged  to  living  people. 

"  To  be-  sure !  To  be  sure !  how  many  are 
gone !"  he  cried,  as  he  shut  it  up.  "  Well,  consid- 
ering I've  been  in  business  near  upon  thirty-eight 
years,  it's  not  surprising.  We  must  all  die.  Yes, 
we  must  all  die.  The  great  thing  is  to  be  prepared, 
and  I  hope  I  shall,  I'm  sure." 

And  he  looked  very  serious  as  he  spoke,  much 
as  he  looked  in  his  seat  at  Sunday  worship,  whether 
at  church  or  chapel,  for  he  went  in  turns  to  both ; 
much  as  he  looked  when  the  clergyman  of  the  dis- 
trict or  the  Wesleyan  minister  called  upon  him  to 
see  how  he  was  going  on  or  to  collect  his  sub- 
scriptions; but  the  expression  gradually  disap- 
peared as  he  locked  up  the  ledger  and  went  into 
the  shop  to  "  right  it." 

He  had  come  upon  several  bad   debts  in  his 


234  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

glance  over  old  times ;  these  remained  in  his  mind 
after  the  necessity  of  preparing  for  death  had  van- 
ished from  it,  and  shared  his  thoughts  with  the 
best  way  of  preparing  a-la-rnode  beef  in  the  pres- 
ent dear  times,  and  the  best  place  to  get  the  beef. 
Consequently,  there  was  a  change  from  the  pensive 
to  the  braced-up-for-action  expression. 

He  had  settled  and  protected  his  various  goods 
under  their  appropriate  shelters,  and  was  taking  a 
farewell  glance  round,  when  a  violent  shaking  of 
the  door  sent  the  bell  into  fits  of  ringing  and  made 
all  the  little  pies  on  the  counter  dance  under  their 
cover. 

He  hadn't  time  to  be  startled  into  any  doubtful 
thoughts,  for  a  strong,  loud  voice  from  without 
shouted,  "Master  Fogg — Quality — I  say.  Let 
us  in." 

"  What,  Davy  Bowles,  you  ?"  said  Quality,  go- 
ing to  the  door ;  "  who'd  have  thought  of  seeing 
you  at  this  time  of  night?" 

"  You  shouldn't  shut  up  so  awk'ard  soon,"  said 
Davy,  coming  in  all  over  snow,  which  he  shook  off 
to  the  besprinkling  of  Quality's  pots,  pans  and 
baskets. 

"  It  all  turns  to  wet !"  said  Quality,  in  a  depre- 
cating tone,  peering  up  into  his  customer's  huge 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         235 

face,  that  was  as  high  up  as  the  lamp  and  a  great 
deal  more  lively-looking. 

"  I  ought  to  know  that  a  sight  better  than  you," 
said  Davy  with  a  hearty  laugh ;  "  haven't  I  been 
out  in  it  all  day?  and  haven't  you  been  sitting  here 
as  snug  as  if  you'd  been  baked  in  one  of  your  own 
pies  ?  Here !  take  off  them  hats  and  let's  see 
what's  under  'em,"  he  continued,  pointing  to  the 
old  sieves,  cloths  and  other  devices  under  which 
the  viands  were  enshrined. 

Quality  went  with  as  much  alacrity  to  undo  his 
previous  work  as  if  he  had  prepared  it  for  that 
express  purpose,  and  never  rested  till  he  had  laid 
the  whole  bare  before  his  visitor.  Davy  looked  at 
dish  after  dish  and  pan  after  pan,  but  seemed  dis- 
satisfied ;  he  shook  his  head  at  each  till  Quality's 
face  wore  a  very  plaintive  expression. 

"  This  is  how  it  is,"  said  Davy  j  "  a  chap  has 
been  very  bad  hurt  at  the  embankment,  where 
we've  been  clearing  the  snow  and  making  the  wall 
as  good  as  we  can  for  the  time  present,  and  he's  in 
a  sad  low  way,  and  I  thought  I'd  get  him  a  bit  of 
summat  spicy  for  supper." 

Quality  smiled  a  kind  smile  of  approbation,  and 
looked  earnestly  among  his  dainties  to  see  if  he 
couldn't  help  to  select  something  suitable. 


236  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

"  Reach  me  one  of  them,"  said  Davy,  pointing 
to  the  black  puddings  that  hung  now  against  the 
wall. 

"  He  mightn't  like — "  Quality  began  remon- 
strating. 

"  Not  for  him,  man,  for  me ;  I'm  very  hungry, 
and  it  looks  very  inviting;  hand  over.  Boiled, 
isn't  it?" 

Quality  assented,  and  Davy  bit  off  a  tolerable 
portion,  laying  his  hand  on  a  penny  roll  that  stood 
convenient. 

"  What  do  you  say  to  this  ?"  said  Quality,  lay- 
ing his  knife  on  the  beef.  "  I  sent  a  slice  to  a  sick 
person  to-night ;  cut  thin  it's  quite  enticing,  I  as- 
sure you." 

"  Cut  thick  would  be  more  enticing  to  me,"  said 
Davy,  laughing ;  "  but  it's  the  best  thing  I  see,  so 
you  may  give  me  a  pound  or  so." 

Quality  went  to  work,  cut  lace-like  slice  after 
slice  till  the  scale  went  down. 

"  Hold  you  !"  cried  Davy ;  "  you're  going  over- 
weight." 

Quality  smiled.  "  Rather  go  over  than  under 
any  time ;  and  when  I  know  it's  for  charity,  I'm 
more  wishful  to  be  free." 

"  That's  handsome,"  said  Davy,  taking  out  the 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         237 

money ;  "  but  I  doubt  you  won't  leave  off  with  a 
fortune  if  you  come  that  too  often." 

"  It's  better  to  leave  off  with  a  good  conscience," 
said  Quality.  "  We  must  leave  the  largest  fortune 
behind  us,  you  know,  but  a  good  conscience  will 
go  with  us." 

"  I  don't  expect  ever  to  have  one  worth  carrying 
— not  I,"  said  Davy,  carelessly,  as  he  counted  out 
his  coppers.  "  What's  the  puddin'  ?  and  give  me 
another." 

Quality  reached  the  pudding,  and  made  a  little 
speech  on  the  necessity  and  value  of  a  good  con- 
science. 

"All  right!  If  you've  got  one,  you  mind  and 
keep  it,  and  when  you've  got  ever  a  bit  of  goodness 
more  than  you  want  for  yourself,  hand  it  over  to 
me,"  said  Davy,  carrying  his  beef  gently,  while  he 
shoved  the  pudding  and  another  roll  into  the  first 
pocket  that  came  convenient. 

"  Nothing  more  ?"  said  Quality,  politely. 

"  Not  to-night ;  if  you'd  got  a  mess  of  that  hot 
stuff  you  used  to  make,  I'd  have  took  him  a  taste 
of  that ;  but  never  mind." 

"A-la-mode  beef? — going  to  make  it  to-mor- 
row," said  Quality. 

"  Do,  and  save  a  lot  for  me,"  said  Davy. 


238  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

"  I  w'll,  and  I  hope  the  beef  will  do  the  poor 
man  good,"  said  Quality. 

"  Thank  you ;  same  time  it  won't,  for  he's  as  sure 
to  die  as  you  are  to  go  to  bed,  depend  upon  that," 
said  Davy. 

"  Oh  dear,  dear !"  said  Quality.  "  Well,  it's  to 
be  hoped  he's  a  good  Christian  man,  and  then  it'll 
be  all  for  the  best  for  him." 

"Don't  know  about  his  goodness,"  said  Davy, 
going  out ;  "  but  for  Christian,  he's  not  one  of  no 
sort,  for  he's  a  Jew.  Good-night !" 

"A  Jew!  dear  heart!"  exclaimed  Quality  as  he 
put  up  the  bar  and  turned  the  key  and  drew  the 
bolts. 

"  What  a  shocking  thing  to  be  a  Jew !  Not  but 
what  I've  known  some  very  nice  people  among 
them,  very.  There  was  Ephraim  Jacobs ;  he  dealt 
with  rne  for  years,  and  a  very  upright  man  he  was, 
and  a  good  customer,  and  never  bated  a  penny  on 
an  article,  never ;  and  there  was  Amos  Levi,  he  was 
another :  paid  me  once  a  quarter  as  regular  as  the 
day  came  and  never  missed.  And  there  was  Judah 
Cohen ;  many  and  many  a  pig  I've  bought  of  him 
and  never  saw  a  shade  of  cheatery ;  no,  it's  a  pity 
they  are  Jews,  and  I  wish  they  were  not,  poor 
things ! — but  God  is  very  merciful,  and  I  hope  we 


QUALITY. FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         239 

ehall  all  be  forgiven  if  we  do  our  best,  provided  we 
don't  know  any  better." 

And  when  Quality  lay  down  in  his  bed,  after 
having  said  his  accustomed  prayers,  which  issued, 
after  the  first  few  words,  only  from  his  lips,  his 
heart  and  mind  being  wholly  occupied  with  the 
best  way  to  get  and  the  most  satisfactory  way  to 
prepare  his  a-la-mode  beef,  he  felt  his  heart  warm 
with  approbation  of  himself.  He  was  no  Jew; 
he  was  a  just — more  than  just,  generous — Chris- 
tian. He  didn't  drink,  like  poor  Dillboy ;  he  was 
no  screw,  like  Davis.  And  the  nice  little  slice  of 
beef  he  had  sent  to  Tommy,  and  the  pudding  he 
had  given  to  the  little  girl,  and  the  a-la-mode  beef 
he  meant  to  send  when  it  was  ready,  and  the  over- 
weight he  had  given  to  Davy  Bowles,  and  the  good 
words  he  had  spoken,  and  his  charitable  hopes  that 
all  people,  Jews  and  drunkards,  and  all  unbelievers 
and  misbelievers,  would  get  to  heaven  at  last, — wove 
themselves  into  a  beautiful  vision  upon  which  he 
gazed  with  sweet  satisfaction  until  he  fell  asleep. 
He  fell  asleep,  but  he  dreamed.  At  first  it  was  of 
the  long  bill  of  Mrs.  Tucker,  which  kept  coming 
out  of  the  envelope  as  fast  as  he  put  it  in ;  then  it 
was  of  the  bell  ringing  and  making  the  things  in 
the  shop  fall  down ;  then  of  all  manner  of  people, 


240  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

real  and  unreal,  doing  all  manner  of  things  likely 
and  unlikely — the  fruit  of  course  of  his  day's  ad- 
ventures and  labours  and  of  the  study  of  his  ledger. 
But  toward  morning  his  thoughts  took  a  more 
definite  and  connected  shape.  He  dreamt  that  he 
was  on  a  road  with  Davy  Bowles  and  many  other 
people;  he  carried  in  his  hands  his  great  bread- 
basket, very  heavy,  containing  he  knew  not  what ; 
Davy  was  joking  and  laughing  with  every  one; 
some  looked  as  gay  as  he  did,  others  looked  grave, 
others  sorrowful.  As  his  dream  advanced,  he  felt 
that  he  was  going  to  a  gate  for  admittance,  and 
that  this  was  no  other  than  the  gate  of  heaven,  and 
he  became  aware  that  the  basket  which  he  carried 
contained  all  his  good  deeds,  by  which  he  was  to 
pay  to  get  in ;  everything  good  he  had  said  or  done 
or  intended  was  in  it,  down  to  the  a-la-mode  beef 
he  meant  to  send  to  little  Tommy.  He  felt  it  to 
be  so  heavy  that  he  thought  at  first  he  had  more 
than  enough,  but,  strange  to  say,  the  farther  he 
walked  the  lighter  it  grew,  and  when  he  was  close 
up  at  the  gate  he  opened  it  and  there  wras  nothing 
in  it  but  a  little  dust.  Terror  and  surprise  over- 
whelmed him;  he  looked  about  and  behind  him, 
to  see  if  he  had  let  any  fall ;  alas,  no !  and  a  little 
dust  was  all  he  had  to  offer  at  the  gate.  The  gate 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         241 

opened,  he  looked  eagerly  to  see  who  got  in ;  not 
one  he  knew  was  among  them  except  little  Tommy. 
Full  of  despair,  as  the  gate  was  about  to  close  he 
rushed  up  with  his  basket,  but  drew  back  abashed 
when  he  remembered  it  held  nothing  but  dust. 

He  awoke  sobbing,  and  for  a  few  seconds  could 
hardly  believe  that  he  was  not  still  on  the  road 
with  the  closed  gate  before  him ;  he  felt  about  for 
his  empty  basket,  and  only  understood  that  he  had 
been  dreaming  when  the  cold  air  played  roughly 
on  his  exposed  arms  and  made  him  draw  them 
under  the  clothes. 

When  daylight  came  and  business  began,  he 
wondered  he  could  have  been  so  moved  by  a 
dream,  but  every  time  he  looked  at  his  bread- 
basket he  had  an  uncomfortable  feeling  he  could 
not  get  rid  of. 


CHAPTER   II. 

As  the  reader  will  have  discovered,  Quality  Fogg 
had  an  eye  to  both  worlds,  and  his  heart  played 
see-saw  with  them.  Oil  Sunday  he  was  all  for 
heaven,  and  no  one  was  more  critical  on  the 
preacher  or  more  edifying  in  his  remarks  on  the 
sermon.  To  be  sure,  out  of  service-time,  when  he 

10 


242  RICHES  WITHOUT   WINGS. 

was  at  home  getting  the  credit  of  reading  his  Bible 
or  some  inferior  help  to  piety,  he  generally  went  to 
sleep,  making  up  for  late  going  to  bed  and  early 
rising  during  during  the  week ;  nay,  he  occasionally 
helped  on  a  few  preparations  for  the  next  morning, 
such  as  he  could  do  without  damaging  his  best 
clothes  or  very  flagrantly  offending  his  conscience. 
But  he  looked  serious  all  the  time,  and  often  inter- 
rupted a  calculation  of  how  much  profit  he  should 
make  on  a  pan  of  stewed  trotters  by  a  sigh  and  a 
sage  reflection  on  the  vanity  of  human  life,  soon 
returning,  however,  to  the  said  calculation  with 
the  same  serious  expression  of  countenance,  assured 
that  his  trotters  came  under  "  works  of  necessity." 
He  never  kept  his  shop  open  on  a  Sunday — not 
for  a  fortune  would  he  have  done  it ;  and  when  any 
person  of  doubtful  credit  knocked  and  asked  as  a 
favour  for  a  pie  or  a  sausage,  he  answered  from  the 
up-stairs  window  that  he  was  a  Sabbath -keeper, 
and  was  very  much  shocked  that  there  should  be 
Sabbath-breakers,  and  instead  of  the  pie  he  favoured 
the  applicant  with  some  gratuitous  good  advice. 
But  if  Mr.  Luggett  had  friends  unexpectedly,  and 
\vanted  an  additional  relish  for  dinner,  or  if  the 
landlord  of  the  Three  Tuns  had  an  influx  of  cus- 
tomers and  required  extra  ham  and  beef,  he  couldn't 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         243 

refuse :  how  could  he  ?  Wouldn't  it  have  been  an 
infringement  of  the  law,  "  Do  as  you  would  be  done 
by  ?"  Of  course  it  would ;  so,  with  a  grave  assertion 
that  he  attended  to  them  entirely  out  of  brotherly 
kindness,  he  served  them,  and  put  it  down  to  "  acts 
of  mercy." 

However  inconsistently  with  his  profession  the 
Sunday  was  spent,  however  ill  at  ease  he  was 
during  the  greater  part  of  it  when  he  was  not 
asleep  or  engaged  in  some  venial  transgression  of 
it,  there  was  no  mistake  about  the  other  end  of  the 
see-saw  when  he  was  down  upon  earth — namely, 
during  the  week.  On  Sunday  he  indulged  long  in 
the  morning,  and  looked  repeatedly  at  his  clock  in 
the  evening  that  he  might  see  when  it  was  a  decent 
hour  for  going  to  bed.  On  Monday  he  got  up 
before  he  was  well  awake,  and  was  generally  half 
asleep  before  he  lay  down  at  night.  He  would 
have  put  leaden  weights  upon  time  on  Monday, 
but  made  it  all  feathers  on  Sunday.  In  short, 
although  he  persisted  in  his  wish  to  go  to  heaven, 
and  in  his  firm  intention  of  going  there,  an  eternal 
Sabbath,  "  where  saints  for  ever  sing  His  praise," 
promised  very  little  happiness  to  him,  and  if  he 
had  attached  any  meaning  to  the  hymns  he  sang  in 
public  worship,  he  would  have  thought  so.  He 


244  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

had  misgivings  at  times  that  he  came  short  of 
heavenly-mindedness,  and  always  spoke  of  himself 
to  a  minister  in  the  most  deprecating  terms,  such 
a  confession  having  the  effect  of  satisfying  his  con- 
science while  it  gained  him  credit  for  humility. 

The  films  that  come  upon  the  soul's  vision  by 
long  habit  grow  very  thick,  and  it  requires  a  pow- 
erful light  to  pierce  them.  Once  in  his  early  youth 
Quality  had  received  serious  impressions,  and  to 
the  faint  remains  of  them  his  clinging  to  heaven 
was  owing,  but  the  cares  of  this  world  and  the  de- 
ceitfulness  of  riches  had  dimmed  his  perceptions, 
and  every  year  had  in  closing  found  him  darker. 
By  nothing  could  he  better  have  tested  his  true 
state  than  his  want  of  love  for  Sabbath  rest  and 
spiritual  exercises  :  his  chapter,  that  through  long 
custom  he  formally  began  but  generally  fell  asleep 
over  before  going  to  bed  on  Sunday  night,  was  the 
most  tiresome  of  the  "  necessary  evils"  of  the  day, 
and  glad  he  was  to  shut  up  the  Bible  and  lay  it  on 
the  shelf  till  the  next  Sunday. 

But  would  he  have  told  you,  reader,  that  he  was 
tired  to  death  of  the  Sunday,  that  he  hated  the 
bore  of  reading,  that  he  had  become  in  his  true 
heart  ready  to  say,  "When  will  the  Sabbath  be 
gone,  that  we  may  get  gain  ?"  Oh  no !  indeed  he 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         245 

would  not  have  confessed  it  to  himself.  No;  as 
soon  as  he  could  no  longer  hold  his  own — having 
made  his  own  as  much  as  he  could — he  meant  to 
go  to  heaven,  and,  according  to  popular  opinion, 
he  was  in  the  way  for  it. 

But  even  this  world  with  all  its  pleasing  varie- 
ties of  work  and  money-getting  was  not  perfect. 
No  man,  in  his  way,  enjoyed  life  more  than  Quality 
Fogg,  but  he  had  a  trouble. 

That  trouble  was  Mr.  Luggett. 

Mr.  Luggett  was  a  different  man  from  Quality ; 
he  had  not  in  any  sense  the  form  of  godliness.  He 
and  the  landlord  of  the  Three  Tuns  and  a  few  other 
choice  spirits  composed  a  club,  of  which  Quality, 
from  business  motives,  was  obliged  to  be  a  mem- 
ber; and  when  he  attended  it,  he  always  came 
home  with  confusion  of  head  and  uneasiness  of 
heart.  The  company  of  profane  persons  was  very 
distasteful  to  him ;  he  felt  almost  as  if  he  were  in- 
volved in  their  peril.  The  members  were  most  of 
them  important  customers,  therefore  he  did  not  like 
to  keep  away,  nor  did  he  think  it  prudent  to  con- 
tradict or  censure  any  of  their  extravagances. 

Mr.  Luggett,  who  was  proud  of  his  high  position 
as  an  independent  man  who  merely  kept  in  busi- 
ness to  amuse  himself,  considered  himself  the  lead- 


246  ETCHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

ing  speaker,  and  having  a  contempt  for  religion  of 
all  kinds,  as  he  said,  had  a  special  scorn  for  what 
he  called  cant.  Cant,  therefore,  was  one  of  his 
favourite  subjects  of  attack  on  club  nights,  and  it 
was  easy  to  see  that  Quality  was  by  him  looked 
upon  as  the  representative  of  cant. 

But  you  can't  quarrel  with  a  man  who  won't 
quarrel.  Quality  never  heard  the  jeers,  felt  the 
slaps  nor  saw  the  winks  directed  at  him — at  least 
the  club  might  have  thought  so  ;  he  never  winced, 
never  retaliated,  but  he  went  home  every  time 
more  fervently  wishing  either  that  Mr.  Luggett 
would  leave  Swan  lane  or  that  he  were  himself 
independent  of  business. 

At  the  last  meeting  there  had  been  a  discussion 
of  the  question  of  a  subscription  for  the  starving 
poor. 

"  Why  should  the  poor  starve  ?"  said  Mr.  Lug- 
gett; "isn't  there  'the  house'?  Don't  we  pay 
rates  ?" 

Most  of  the  members  were  of  the  same  mind, 
and  some  of  them  spoke  roughly  of  the  obstinacy 
and  wrongheadedness  of  the  poor  for  choosing  to 
starve  in  spite  of  their  abundant  resources. 

"  Do  what  you  will  for  'em,  they'll  never  be 
better  off,"  said  one  member.  "  I've  got  a  lodger, 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         247 

a  widow  woman  with  four  children,  and  one  of 
'em  dying,  they  tell  me,  and  I've  told  her  to  go  to 
the  house.  But  not  a  bit  of  it ;  she'll  stay  and 
die  first,  I  believe." 

"  I'd  turn  her  out,"  said  Mr.  Luggett  between 
the  puffs  of  his  pipe. 

"I  can't  while  she  pays  her  rent,"  said  the 
other. 

"  How  do  you  know  she  is  starving,  sir,  if  she 
pays  her  rent  ?"  Quality  ventured  to  ask  politely. 

"  I  know  she  must  be ;  all  she  gets  is  by  sewing, 
and  we  all  understand  the  ( comings  in'  that  way." 

"  Is  her  name  Grant  ?"  asked  Quality. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  it  is,"  was  the  answer. 

"  I  was  afraid  they  were  very  poor,  but  they  are 
very  honest ;  they've  never  once  sent  to  me  without 
the  money." 

"  They  don't  send  very  often,  do  they  ?"  said  the 
man,  contemptuously. 

"No,  poor  things;  it's  a  pity  she  won't  go  to 
the  house  for  the  winter;  they  could  come  out 
again  in  the  spring,"  said  Quality.  "Couldn't 
you  persuade  her  ?" 

"  Not  I ;  I've  given  her  my  mind  once ;  but  as 
soon  as  ever  she  slips  a  week's  pay  she  shall  go, 
whether  she  likes  it  or  not." 


248.  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINQS. 

"  You  are  right,  Mr.  Winks ;  it's  of  no  use  to 
encourage  such  pride  and  independence/'  said  Mr. 
Luggett,  approvingly. 

Quality  said  nothing,  but  he  thought  of  little 
Tommy,  and  remembered  with  pleasure  that  he 
saw  him  get  in  at  the  gate. 

The  company  having  disposed  of  the  relief  ques- 
tion by  the  philosophical  resolution  that  poor  peo- 
ple were  great  pests,  and  the  less  they  were  en- 
couraged the  better,  went  on  to  abuse  all  public 
characters  and  measures  that  didn't  entirely  fit  in 
with  their  tastes;  gave  their  opinions  with  the 
assurance  that  is  compatible  only  with  perfect  igno- 
rance or  perfect  knowledge,  and  wound  up  by  some 
subjects  nearer  home,  the  worth  of  property  and 
the  advance  of  trade  in  that  immediate  neighbour- 
hood. 

As  the  drink  increased,  confidences  became  more 
intimate,  and  discussions  and  disclosures  of  a  per- 
sonal nature  ensued.  Thus  Mr.  Luggett,  who  was 
a  great  boaster,  declared  that  he  had  given  a  fabu- 
lous price  for  the  coat  he  wore,  which  he  submitted 
to  the  examination  of  the  company,  and  he  further 
indulged  them  with  an  account  of  his  new  stock- 
ings, woolen,  thick-ribbed,  of  which  he  had  bought 
six  pairs  at  the  cost  of — 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         249 

Quality  wondered — wondered  if  he  should  ever 
be  so  wealthy  as  to  possess  such  a  coat,  or  to  be  the 
owner  of  so  many  new  stockings  of  such  a  value 
at  once. 

He  got  away  as  soon  as  he  could  without  draw- 
ing down  Mr.  Luggett's  taunting  remarks,  and  got 
home  just  in  time  to  save  his  door  from  an  assault 
by  Davy  Bowles. 

"Oh,  Davy,  I've  just  got  away  from  club,"  he 
exclaimed ;  "  I'm  so  glad  I'm  in  time  for  you." 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Davy.  "  Is  the  beef-gruel 
made?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  the  a-la-mode  ?  quite,"  said  Quality, 
bustling  in.  "  Dear  me  !  how  cold  it  is  to-night." 

"  Cold  !"  echoed  Davy,  with  a  shrug ;  "  you 
wouldn't  say  it  was  cold  if  you'd  had  my  run." 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?"  asked  Quality,  serv- 
ing out  the  beef. 

"  Oh,  never  mind  where.  Put  some  more ;  that's 
not  worth  taking,"  replied  Davy,  watching  him. 

"  It  comes  high,"  remarked  Quality,  mentioning 
the  price ;  "  and  I  couldn't  let  it  go  under  that." 

Davy  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  rum- 
maged about,  then  brought  out  a  shilling  and  a 
few  coppers  with  rather  a  blank  look. 

"  Ain't  got  another  dump  !"  he  exclaimed. 


250  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

"Well,"  said  Quality,  "then,  perhaps,  just  a 
small  taste  to-night  would  be  best.  I'll  put  you 
this  measure  for  sixpence;  he  can't  eat  much  at  any 
time  you  see." 

"Palaver!  fill  my  can ;  I'll  find  the  pay,"  said 
Davy,  impatiently. 

Quality  admired  his  friend's  generosity ;  he  had 
a  high  opinion  also  of  his  integrity ;  but  he  was 
not  a  person  whom  he  thought  it  prudent  to  trust. 
Davy's  work  was  often  dangerous,  which  made  life 
in  his  case  more  than  ordinarily  uncertain,  or  if  life 
was  not  sacrificed,  his  limbs  might  be  so  blemished 
as  to  lay  him  by  helpless  for  a  long  time;  and 
Quality's  conscience  would  have  protested  against 
his  urging  payment  of  a  debt  under  such  circum- 
stances (more  especially  as  it  would  be  of  no  use  to 
do  it),  therefore  he  had  always  studiously  avoided 
giving  him  credit. 

He  looked  at  the  small  measure  and  the  great 
can,  at  the  shilling  and  twopence-halfpenny  on  the 
counter,  and  he  deliberated. 

"It's  very  strong  —  uncommonly  strong,"  he 
said,  when  he  had  settled  what  was  best  to  do ; 
"  supposing  I  was  to  put  the  sixpenny  worth  into 
the  can  and  fill  it  up,  or  halfway  up,  we'll  say,  with 
water." 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.        251 

"And  give  the  water  in?"  demanded  Davy,  with 
a  satirical  grin. 

"Well,  I  just  proposed  it  to  save  you,"  said 
Quality,  half  ashamed;  "sick  people  ought  not 
to  have  such  rich  things ;  so  it's  better  for  the  poor 
man  too." 

"  All  right,  but  it  ain't  my  way  to  make  presents 
of  pump-water,  you  see,  more  partickler  as  it's  plen- 
tiful enough  in  that  family  as  never  sees  much  be- 
sides ;  so  fill  up  my  can,  and  what's  over  pay,  I'll 
bring  you  next  time." 

"  But  won't  it  be  inconvenient  to  spare  all  you 
have  till  settling  day  comes  round  ?"  asked  Qual- 
ity, pausing  as  he  put  the  money  into  the  till. 

"  Oh,  I  can  do  two  ways,  with  and  without,  when 
I'm  pushed  a  bit,"  said  Davy,  who  wouldn't  look 
at  the  eatables,  a  goodly  portion  of  which  he  could 
well  have  disposed  of. 

"  Any  trifle  in  my  way,"  said  Quality,  relenting, 
for  he  had  a  pretty  just  guess  at  the  truth,  "I'll 
let  you  have  of  course,  though  it's  not  my  way 
much  to  give  credit,  but  I  know  you'll  be  out  of 
debt  as  soon  as  you've  got  the  chance ;  would  you 
like  to  take  a  bit  for  your  own  supper,  now?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  mind  if  I  do,"  said  Davy,  re- 
turning quickly  to  the  counter  and  helping  him- 


252  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

self  bountifully  while  Quality  kept  watch  of  the 
items  and  began  to  improve  the  occasion,  saying, 
"  And  how  is  the  poor  man  ?  I'm  glad  to  see  you 
so  charitable,  Davy ;  you'll  never  lose  by  it,  you 
may  be  sure." 

"  Never  expected  to,"  said  Davy,  with  indiffer- 
ence, continuing  to  eat. 

"  No,  we  may  look  to  gain  by  what  we  give," 
said  Quality;  "it's  laying  up  treasure  in  heaven, 
and  what  can  be  better  than  doing  that  ?" 

Davy  looked  at  him  with  an  expression  half 
serious,  half  quizzical,  as  he  replied  : 

"  Do  you  believe  as  there'll  be  any  account  took 
in  heaven  of  this  beef-gruel  as  I'm  giving  to  poor 
Tom?" 

"  I  should  hope  so,"  said  Quality,  gravely. 

"  I  don't,"  said  Davy,  bluntly. 

"  Everything  we  do  to  please  God  will  be  re- 
warded, you  know,"  said  Quality,  whose  thoughts, 
notwithstanding,  involuntarily  reverted  to  his 
empty  basket. 

,  "  But  I  don't  know  as  I'm  thinking  about  pleas- 
ing God.  I  do  it  to  please  myself,"  said  Davy. 

"  That  shows  you  are  good,  if  it  pleases  you  to 
do  good  things;  and  so  you  are  all  right,  though 
you  don't  see  it,"  said  Quality. 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         253 

"I  all  right?— you  all  right?  ha,  ha,  ha!" 
said  Davy,  with  a  somewhat  scornful  laugh. 

Quality  was  hurt.  He  gently  replied  that  if  his 
customer  refused  to  take  credit  for  goodness  to 
himself,  he  was  rather  going  out  of  his  way  to 
reflect  upon  him  as  having  no  claim  to  it. 

"I've  naught  to  say  about  it,  not  I,"  said 
Davy;  "but  'all  right'  is  a  touch  above  us  both, 
I  reckon,  by  what  the  parson  tells  poor  Tom." 

"  A  parson  ?  What,  has  he  got  a  reverend  min- 
ister to  see  him  ?  I  thought  he  was  a  Jew  !"  ex- 
claimed Quality. 

"Ay,  so  he  is — leastways,  so  he  was,  but  he 
seems  to  be  in  doubts  now  if  he  won't  turn 
Christian." 

"  I  hope  he  will,  that  I  do !"  said  Quality, 
earnestly. 

Davy  looked  at  him  as  if  he  had  something  on 
his  mind  that  he  couldn't  quite  bring  out,  but  mas- 
tering his  unwillingness,  he  said  : 

"  It's  as  new  to  me,  if  you'll  believe  it,  what  a 
Christian  is,  as  it  is  to  poor  Tom." 

"New  —  what  a  Christian  is!  Why,  Davy, 
I've  known  you  to  be  a  Ch/stian  all  your  life ; 
and  a  very — very — " 

"Very  what?"  said  Davy.     "What  sort  of  a 


254  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

Christian  have  you  known  me  ?  I'll  tell  you  what 
it  is,  Quality,  it's  not  doing  a  good  turn  here  and 
there  as  makes  a  Christian,  it's  a  whole  concern 
out  and  out,  and  I'm  come  to  see  that  I'm  no  more 
a  Christian  than  I'm  a  Jew." 

"  Oh,  Davy,  don't  say  that,"  said  Quality,  ner- 
vously. 

"  What  matters  saying  it  ?  What's  true  is  true, 
whether  it's  said  or  not ;  and  you  mind,  Master 
Fogg,  it  won't  be  what  we  think  of  ourselves,  but 
what  God  knows  of  us,  as'll  settle  us  in  our  places 
at  last." 

"  How  you  have  got  to  talk !"  said  Quality, 
looking  at  him  with  surprise. 

"  It's  true,  isn't  it  ?"  said  Davy. 

Quality  couldn't  gainsay  that,  but  he  felt  queer 
in  being  treated  as  a  learner  by  one  whom  he  had 
always  looked  on  as  his  far-off  inferior  in  religious 
attainment. 

"There's  no  going  again  truth,  even  when  it 
goes  again  you,"  added  Davy,  taking  up  his  can. 
"  I  wish  upon  times  I'd  never  heard  about  it ;  I 
was  a  deal  more  satisfied,  but  now  I  can't  get 
things  out  of  my  head." 

"  But,  Davy,  you  never  used  to  be  afraid  of  any- 
:hing,"  said  Quality,  looking  at  him  with  surprise. 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER,        255 

"  No,  not  where  this  could  stand  me,"  he  said, 
showing  his  clenched  fist ;  "  but  what's  to  be  done 
when  one  has  got  to  tackle  spirits  good  or  bad  ?  I 
tell  you,  Quality,  I  don't  like  the  thoughts  of  it, 
and  the  more  because  I  don't  see  how  to  be  straight 
with  it." 

"  My  good  friend,  don't  you  know  that  God  is 
very  merciful,  and  if  we  try  our  best  he  will  for- 
give us  and  take  us  when  we  die  ?" 

"  That  bridge  won't  carry,"  said  Davy,  emphati- 
cally. "  Parson  bio  wed  that  down  in  no  time. 
Poor  Tom  was  at  all  sorts  of  dodges  with  him — 
good  conscience,  lots  of  good  things  he'd  done, 
never  been  a  swearer,  never  no  drinker;  none  of  it 
was  a  carrying  bridge.  He  showed  it  plain  enough, 
and  I  believe  it,  and  I  wish  I  didn't,  for  I  never 
concerned  myself  about  such  things  before,  and  now 
they're  in  my  head,  whether  I  will  or  no." 

"  What  a  strange  world  it  is !"  thought  Quality 
as  the  words  of  Davy  returned  to  his  mind.  "  He 
has  been  among  the  ranters,  I  should  think  ;  well, 
we  can't  be  too  religious,  and  I  only  hope  he  won't 
fall  back  again." 

Perhaps  the  example  of  Davy's  charity  had 
stirred  him  up,  but  after  he  had  entered  in  his  book 
the  things  he  had  in  store  against  him,  it  struck 


256  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

him  that  as  there  was  but  a  very  little  a-la-mode 
beef  left,  he  would  make  a  little  dish  of  it  (not- 
withstanding Davy's  protest)  by  the  help  of  some 
water,  and  take  it  to  Tommy  Grant. 

He  could  not  account  for  the  attraction  he  felt 
toward  this  child — greatly  increased  since  he  be- 
held him  go  in  at  the  gate.  He  was  not  very  par- 
tial to  children,  though  he  always  treated  them 
with  kindness,  according  to  his  established  rule 
that  "  a  kind  manner  costs  nothing ;"  but  he  had 
been  interested  in  this  little  boy  from  their  first 
meeting.  Such  pretty  manners  !  such  a  pretty  boy ! 
such  a  pretty  scholar !  and  so  good  !  For  Tommy 
had  more  than  once,  when  sent  on  an  errand,  had 
little  conversations  with  Quality,  in  the  course  of 
which  he  had  displayed  his  acquaintance  with 
Scripture,  while  he  listened  with  the  greatest  sim- 
plicity and  reverence  to  the  annotations  and  ex- 
poundings of  Mr.  Fogg,  whom  he  looked  on  as  a 
grave  authority  in  such  matters. 

But  beyond  the  slice  of  beef  and  a  good  inten- 
tion respecting  the  a-la-mode,  Quality  had  not 
shown  his  regard  to  his  admirer  practically.  It 
was  too  late  to  expect  customers ;  he  had  ready  a 
present  (not  foolishly  lavish,  but  satisfying  to  his 
good  sense  while  gratifying  to  his  conscience),  and 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         257 

he  couldn't  do  better  than  take  it,  and  give  Mrs. 
Grant  a  little  advice  about  going  to  the  house  for 
the  rest  of  the  winter. 

"  Certainly,"  he  thought  as  he  went  along,  "  a 
little  present  now  and  then  it  is  right  to  give,  and 
I  hope  I  shall  never  lose  by  it"  (here  he  had  some 
trouble  in  keeping  out  Davy's  views  on  the  sub- 
ject) ;  "  but  I  can't  go  on  with  it  continually,  and, 
poor  little  fellow  !  he  would  be  so  well  attended  to 
in  the  workhouse.  I  believe,  as  Mr.  Winks  says, 
they  are  well  taken  care  of  there.  I  don't  like 
Mr.  Winks,  but  as  Mr.  Luggett  says,  what's  the 
good  of  paying  for  a  workhouse  if  it  isn't  used  ?  I 
don't  like  Mr.  Luggett  at  all,  but  he  is  certainly  a 
sensible  man,  very ;  there's  no  denying  that !" 

And  here  he  fell  into  a  muse  on  Mr.  Luggett, 
and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  if  he,  with  his  good 
sense,  his  position,  his  beautiful  coat  and  excellent 
stockings  to  the  number  of  six  pairs,  all  new  at 
once,  had  but  religion,  he  would  be  the  most  en- 
viable man  he  knew. 

"But  that,  after  all,  is  the  important  thing  of 
all,"  he  wound  up  with;  "and  I'd  rather  be  as  I 
am  with  religion  than  be  Mr.  Luggett  witl:?ut  it. 

"  There  he  is,  for  instance,"  he  thought,  "  still 
drinking  at  the  club  and  abusing  the  poor;  here 

17 


258  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

am  I  carrying  food  to  them  at  my  own  cost  through 
the  snowy  streets ;"  and  a  little  chime  of  praise  rang 
through  his  heart  at  the  contrast — "  Good  Quality 
Fogg !  Good  Quality  Fogg !" 

"Does  a  Mrs.  Grant  lodge  with  you,  Mrs. 
Winks?"  he  asked  of  the  woman  in  the  pawn- 
broker's shop  in  Harp  Court. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Fogg;  has  she  been  ordering  a  hot 
supper?"  she  demanded. 

"  Oh  no,"  said  Quality,  the  sound  of  the  chime 
not  out  of  his  ears;  "it's  a  little  present  I've 
brought  for  the  sick  child." 

"  Very  good  of  you,  I'm  sure,"  said  the  woman, 
who  was  sorry  for  the  widow,  and  would  have 
helped  her  if  her  husband  had  allowed  it.  "Winks 
is  dead  set  on  giving  her  notice,  and  means  to  do 
so  the  first  chance,  but  I  think  she'll  manage  to 
pay  while  she  can ;  and  I  wish  she  may  always  do 
it,  for  she's  a  quiet  sort  of  a  woman,  and  does  well 
by  the  poor  children." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  you  have  a  feeling  heart,  Mrs. 
Winks,  and  be  sure  God  will  reward  you  for  your 
good  wishes,"  said  Quality,  who  was  always  very 
liberal  with  sneh  promises,  whether  he  had  Scrip- 
ture authority  for  them  or  not. 

Mrs,  Winks  showed  him  the  way  up  with  an 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         259 

approving  smile,  and  in  another  second  the  widow 
had  opened  the  door  to  his  gentle  knock. 

It  was  such  a  small  room  !  A  turn-up  bedstead 
stood  in  one  corner,  which,  when  let  down,  must 
have  filled  the  greater  part  of  it.  At  present  it 
was  still  folded,  and  a  curtain  hung  across  it  to 
separate  it  from  the  rest  of  the  chamber.  On  a 
chair  and  an  empty  box,  making  an  extempore  bed, 
lay  little  Tommy,  as  close  to  the  poor  fire  as  he 
could  be  brought.  The  widow  and  her  daughters 
were  hard  at  work  making  up  the  jerseys  in  use 
among  the  navvies  from  a  huge  roll  of  the  woven 
material.  A  strong  smell  of  oil  from  this  roll 
filled  the  little  room,  so  that,  notwithstanding  the 
cold,  it  was  necessary  for  a  few  minutes  occasionally 
to  open  the  windows  that  the  fresh  air  might  be 
brought  in.  One  miserable  candle  was  on  the 
table,  around  which  the  heads  of  mother  and 
daughters  nearly  met  as  with  nervous  haste  they 
plied  the  needles  that  trembled  in  their  fingers. 

"  I  have  done,  mother !"  cried  one  voice  as  the 
knock  came  to  the  door. 

"And  I  shall  soon  have  done,  mother!"  said 
another. 

"  Mother,  leave  off,  and  let  me  take  yours !"  said 
the  first. 


260  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINOS. 

Before  Mrs.  Grant  could  reply,  the  knock  was 
heard,  and  she  went  to  answer  it. 

"I've  just  brought  a  trifle  for  Tommy's  supper, 
and  I  hope  he's  better,"  said  Quality,  who  thought, 
though  used  to  a  dingy  abode,  he  had  never  seen 
one  so  gloomy. 

The  widow's  face  bore  the  impress  of  want,  care 
and  labour ;  these,  not  age,  had  whitened  her  hair 
and  dimmed  her  eyes.  She  thanked  her  visitor 
very  gratefully,  and  proceeded  to  empty  the  mea- 
sure into  a  basin. 

"Is  it  Mr.  Fogg,  mother?  is  it  Mr.  Fogg?" 
cried  Tommy,  starting  up. 

"Yes,  my  dear,  I've  brought  you  some  beautiful 
a-la-mode,  and  I  hope  you'll  enjoy  it.  It's  enough 
for  twice,  I  should  say,"  said  Quality,  who,  though 
his  heart  was  touched  by  the  earnest  question 
of  his  little  friend,  did  not  altogether  lose  sight  of 
prudence. 

" I'm  so  glad,  Mr.  Fogg!  Mr.  Fogg,  couldn't 
you  stay  and  read  to  me  and  explain  a  little?" 
cried  the  child  as  he  stroked  Quality's  hand  with 
his  thin,  feverish  fingers. 

" Not  to-night,  my  dear;  it's  late  you  see,  and 
I've  got  plenty  to  do,  only  I  wanted  to  see  how  you 
got  on." 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         261 

His  mother  stood  by  with  the  empty  measure  in 
her  hand. 

"He  doesn't  mean  to  be  unreasonable,  Mr. 
Fogg,"  she  said,  "  but  he  is  so  fond  of  being  read 
to,  and  we  have  no  time  to  read  nor  even  to  speak 
to  him,  poor  fellow !  It's  as  much  as  we  can  do  to 
get  what  is  needful  for  him,  work  is  so  ill  paid 
for." 

"Ah,  a  poor  business  indeed,  I'm  afraid,  ma'am," 
said  Quality,  politely,  "  and  the  smell  of  the  oil 
must  be  very  bad  for  the  child.  I  should  think — 
don't  you  think — he'd  be  better  off — " 

"  In  the  infirmary  ?"  said  the  widow,  quickly ; 
"yes,  sometimes  I  think  so,  and  I  mean  to  try  and 
get  a  ticket  if  he  doesn't  get  better  soon.  I  tell 
him  he  will  have  the  chaplain  to  read  to  him 
there." 

A  look  of  anguish  passed  over  her  face  as  Tom- 
my's eyes  sought  hers,  and  he  uttered  a  faint  "  Oh, 
mother !" 

Quality  was  strangely  moved ;  he  couldn't  say  a 
word  about  the  workhouse. 

"  God  will  help  us,  Tommy ;  think  of  the  blessed 
kingdom  where  we  shall  meet  to  part  no  more," 
said  the  widow,  resolutely  checking  her  tears. 
"  That  always  makes  you  happy." 


262  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

"Ah,  but  I  want  Mr.  Fogg  to  tell  me  some- 
thing," said  Tommy,  wistfully. 

"  What  is  it,  my  dear  ?"  said  Quality,  kneeling 
close  by  his  side,  while  the  widow  went  back  to  her 
work. 

"I  want  you  to  tell  me  about  the  third  of  John 
— about  being  born  again.  What  does  it  mean?" 
whispered  Tommy,  nervously. 

"Born  again,  my  dear!"  said  Quality;  "well, 
it  means — it  means — being  good,  you  know." 

"Does  it?"  said  Tommy,  with  a  disappointed 
look. 

"  Yes,  my  dear ;  I  can't  stop  now,  but  I'll  come 
again  and  tell  you  more  about  it  another  time," 
said  Quality. 

"But  am  I  born  again?"  asked  the  child, 
anxiously. 

"  Ahem  !  I  hope  so ;  I  hope  we  shall  all  get  to 
heaven,  I  do  indeed,  Tommy." 

He  had  some  difficulty  in  getting  away  from  the 
trembling  child,  who  seemed  anything  but  com- 
forted by  his  vague  assurances. 

"  I  suppose  he  means  is  he  '  all  right,'  poor  in- 
nocent little  fellow !  Well,  Davy  wouldn't  have 
any  doubts  about  him,  I  should  think !" 

Tommy's  wan  little  face,  his  earnest,  trembling 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         263 

voice,  and,  above  all,  his  question,  did  not  leave 
Quality  that  night  nor  the  day  after,  and  he  felt 
he  should  be  glad  when  it  was  Sunday  again,  for 
he  made  up  his  mind  to  read  the  third  of  John 
and  consider  it  well,  and  go  and  see  Tommy  before 
evening  service  and  set  his  mind  at  rest. 


CHAPTER    III. 

"  NEARLY  twelve  o'clock !  How  the  time  runs 
on  !"  exclaimed  Quality  as  he  worked  away  at  his 
ledger  on  the  Saturday  night  before  the  Sunday 
on  which  he  meant  to  satisfy  Tommy  Grant's  scru- 
ples. "Well,  I  must  finish;  I  have  only  these 
three  little  accounts  to  make  out,  and  then  I've 
done.  I  shall  have  finished  by  twelve." 

Now,  down  deep  in  his  heart  he  knew  perfectly 
well  that  he  could  not  finish  by  twelve;  but  he 
chose  to  say  so  to  quiet  his  surface  conscience,  and 
took  care  not  to  look  at  the  clock  again  till  he  had 
folded  his  last  bill  and  closed  his  ledger  for  that 
year.  Then  he  looked,  and  how  shocked  and  sur- 
prised he  was  to  find  that  he  had  been  at  work  a 
good  hour  of  Sunday  morning !  "  In  for  a  penny, 
in  for  a  pound."  Having  transgressed  the  law  so 
far,  he  thought  there  was  no  use  now  in  being  par- 


264  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

ticular,  so  lie  spent  another  half  hour  in  prepara- 
tions for  Monday  morning  before  he  went  to  bed. 

"What  a  mercy  is  a  day  of  rest!"  he  thought 
Avhen  he  first  opened  his  eyes  the  next  morning 
and  recollected  it  was  Sunday,  and  then  turned 
round  to  take  another  long  sleep. 

"  It  is  vain  for  you  to  rise  up  early,  to  sit  up 
late,  to  eat  the  bread  of  sorrows :  for  so  he  giveth 
his  beloved  sleep,"  God  says  by  the  Psalmist. 
Quality  knew  nothing  of  rest.  He  ate  the  bread 
of  carefulness,  he  laboured  hard,  his  ledger  was  his 
Bible,  his  shop  was  his  sanctuary,  the  world  was 
his  home,  its  god  was  his  god.  But  all  this  he 
was  ignorant  of;  and  being  accustomed  to  take 
credit  to  himself  on  very  slight  grounds,  he  really 
believed  that  he  rejoiced  as  a  Christian  should  for 
a  Sabbath  of  rest  to  the  soul,  when  he  composed 
himself  to  more  sleep  on  account  of  it.  It  is  con- 
fessed on  all  hands  that  nothing  is  more  deceiving 
than  the  love  of  money,  and  it  is  a  question  which 
many  will  answer  in  the  affirmative,  if  getting 
money  is  not  often  more  attractive  to  the  heart 
than  the  money  when  got?  Quality  was  a  type 
of  this  class.  He  had  no  pleasure  in  the  money 
that  was  hoarded  up  in  the  bank — for  he  had  his 
hundreds  there — he  had  no  pleasure  in  spending; 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         2G5 

his  early  habits  of  self-denial  and  extreme  frugality 
had  never  left  him ;  therefore  the  mere  fact  of 
money  was  of  little  use  to  him,  but  he  grew  more 
keenly  fond  of  getting  it  day  by  day.  The  sound 
of  the  pennies  tinkling  into  the  till  as  his  pies 
went  quickly  off  on  a  Saturday  night  was  musical 
in  his  ears,  and  the  satisfaction  of  a  shilling's  extra 
gain  on  an  investment  of  any  kind  warmed  his 
heart.  Such  things  he  enjoyed — fairly  enjoyed — 
while  the  money  in  the  bank  was  a  standing  fact 
that  did  not  affect  his  daily  comfort  or  pleasure. 

If  you  had  asked  him  why  he  saved  or  why  he 
worked,  since  he  had  no  family  obligations  to  do 
either,  he  could  not  have  told  you.  Perhaps,  if 
ever  he  asked  himself,  he  might  answer  that  it  was 
to  get  out  of  the  reach  of  Mr.  Luggett — to  undo 
him  was  beyond  his  hopes — to  be  able  to  retire 
from  business ;  but  these  reasons  would  have  been 
fallacious.  He  worked  because  he  loved  work,  he 
saved  because  he  loved  saving,  and  he  got  money 
because  he  loved  getting  money,  and  there  was 
nothing  beyond  in  the  way  of  accounting  for  it. 

He  had  some  trouble  to  be  in  time  for  worship 
on  that  Sunday  morning;  but  as  he  never  missed, 
soon,  with  his  books  under  his  arm,  he  was  to  be 
seen  by  his  neighbours — few  of  whom  kept  the 


266  RICHES  WITHOUT   WINQS. 

Sabbath  or  even  professed  to  do  it  —  tramping 
through  the  snow  and  sludge  within  a  few  minutes 
of  being  late.  His  sitting  up  the  night  before  had 
made  him  very  dull  and  sleepy;  though  his  habitual 
seriousness  efface  gave  him  the  appearance  of  deep 
attention,  an  occasional  nod  betrayed  that  he  was 
not  profiting  by  what  the  preacher  was  saying. 
The  wise  stare  which  he  put  on  when,  by  an  un- 
usually sudden  dip  down  of  the  head,  he  jerked 
himself  awake,  would  not  have  deceived  the  most 
charitable ;  but  he  hoped,  for  example's  sake,  that 
nobody  saw  him,  composed  himself  to  listen  and 
went  off  into  a  succession  of  dozes  till  the  service 
was  over. 

"  Shall  I  go  and  see  Tommy  ?"  he  thought  when 
he  had  finished  his  dinner. 

He  looked  at  his  Bible.  To  be  able  to  go  and 
see  Tommy,  he  must  be  able  to  expound  the  third 
of  John,  and  to  be  able  to  expound  it  he  must 
read  it. 

Now,  tired  as  he  was,  he  could  without  effort 
have  turned  to  the  most  complicated  page  in  his 
ledger.  Such  an  occupation  would  have  cheated 
him  of  his  weariness ;  but  the  Bible ! 

He  opened  it  at  the  place;  he  read  it,  and  in 
doing  so,  the  days  when  he  was  taught  the  Scrip- 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         267 

tures  by  his  mother — those  days  when  a  little  seed 
had  taken  root  in  his  heart,  but  worldly  cares  had 
trodden  the  soil  down  hard  so  that  it  could  not 
spring  up — came  back  to  him.  Where  was  his 
mother?  In  heaven.  He  was  as  sure  of  that  as 
he  was  of  the  sun's  being  in  the  sky.  He  remem- 
bered while  he  read  that  he  had  learnt  this  chap- 
ter by  heart;  but  after  he  had  gone  through  it 
for  the  purpose  of  preparing  it  for  Tommy,  he 
knew  no  more  about  what  it  meant  than  did 
Nicodemus. 

"Certainly  there  are  very  deep  things  in  the 
Bible,"  he  thought.  "My  poor  mother  read  a 
great  deal ;  that  was  the  way  she  came  to  under- 
stand it.  When  I  have  a  little  more  leisure  I'll 
read  it  regularly,  not  only  on  Sundays,  but  every 
day." 

This  resolution  was  a  quietus  to  any  misgivings 
he  felt  concerning  his  ignorance;  and  the  sun 
comirg  out,  although  there  was  a  keen  north-east 
wind,  he  determined  to  pay  his  promised  visit  to 
the  pawnbroker's. 

But  just  as  he  turned  the  key  in  the  door,  who 
should  appear  from  the  corner  house  but  Mr.  Lug- 
gett  in  his  beautiful  coat ! 

"  Fogg !"  cried  the  great  man,  familiarly,  "  going 


268  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

out  ?  That's  right — it's  got  fine — come  and  take  a 
turn  with  me." 

How  perplexing !  Mr.  Luggett's  usual  manner 
was  haughty  and  overbearing  and  contemptuous. 
If  he  had  assailed  Quality  in  such  a  tone  now,  he 
would  have  merely  bowed  politely,  smiled  submis- 
sively and  passed  on,  remembering  his  rule  never 
to  quarrel  with  a  customer,  especially  a  good  one. 
Nay,  he  would  have  comforted  himself  with  the 
reflection  that  he  was  despised  for  the  sake  of  his 
religion.  He  would  not  have  been  despised  on 
any  account  if  he  could  have  helped  it,  but  as  he 
couldn't  help  it,  the  next  best  thing  was  to  make 
merchandise  of  such  despising,  and  set  it  down  to 
his  score  against  heaven. 

But  now  Mr.  Luggett  was  friendly,  affable ; 
called  him  "  Fogg"  in  a  brotherly  tone — not  in 
a  supercilious  one,  but  in  the  frank  accents  of 
equality. 

"  Fogg,  come  and  take  a  turn  with  me,"  he  said. 

The  key  had  scarcely  completed  its  round  in  the 
lock  before  Quality  had  settled  his  course.  He 
walked  forward  with  a  smile  and  turned  the  cor- 
ner with  the  lofty  auctioneer.  For  some  time  the 
weather  and  certain  improvements  Mr.  Luggett 
meant  to  make  in  that  street  (which  belonged  to 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         269 

him)  sufficed  for  conversation.  With  an  occasional 
pause  before  the  fence  at  the  border  of  the  fields, 
their  walk  was  confined  to  pacing  up  and  down  the 
street,  for  the  snow,  where  it  was  unmelted,  lay  in 
thick  drifts  around,  so  that  mere  pleasure  was  not 
a  sufficient  inducement  to  pass  through  it. 

"  I  shall  make  a  good  job  of  these  houses,  Fogg ; 
don't  you  think  I  shall  ?"  said  Mr.  Luggett,  after 
he  had  gone  through  his  plans  concerning  them. 

Quality  most  urbanely  admired  everything,  won- 
dering what  could  have  improved  Mr.  Luggett  so 
much  since  their  last  interview,  when  he  got  an 
inkling  of  the  secret. 

"A  pretty  pass  we  shall  have  I  suppose  about 
this  business  that's  coming  on,"  said  the  great  man, 
staring  straight  before  him,  while  Quality  looked 
up  in  his  face. 

Finding  that  he  could  read  no  solution  there,  he 
asked,  "  What  business  ?" 

"  Oh  dear !  haven't  you  heard  ?"  cried  Mr.  Lug- 
gett ;  "  this  election,  I  mean." 

"  Election  !  what  election  ?"  asked  Quality. 

"What  a  quiet  fellow  you  are,  Fogg!"  said  the 
auctioneer,  with  an  affectionate  smile;  "you  stay 
at  home  in  that  place  of  yours,  and  never  meddle 
nor  make  with  anybody." 


270  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

Quality's  heart  tingled ;  to  be  praised  anyhow, 
by  anybody,  was  pleasant,  but  to  be  so  praised 
by  such  a  man — a  man  that  had  hitherto  taken  de- 
light in  tormenting  him — was  no  ordinary  satisfac- 
tion. He  began  a  speech  about  the  calls  of  duty 
being  sufficient,  etc.,  etc. 

"Just  so,  just  so,"  said  Mr.  Luggett,  who  didn't 
care  to  listen  to  his  little  morals.  "  I  know  you 
are  a  conscientious  man,  but  that's  the  very  kind 
of  man  we  want  to  stand  forward  in  the  right 
cause,  and  I  hope  you  won't  shrink  from  your 
duty,  Fogg." 

"  I  hope  I  shall  never  be  found  to  do  that,  Mr. 
Luggett,"  said  Quality,  righteously. 

"  No ;  I  said  the  other  night  when  "Winks  de- 
clared that  you'd  be  sure  to  vote  for  Golding,  I'll 
answer  for  it,  if  he's  only  shown  where  duty  goes, 
he'll  go  after  it !" 

Quality  was  quite  fluttered ;  but  as  Mr.  Luggett 
proceeded  to  enlighten  him  with  respect  to  the 
coming  election,  and  to  set  before  him  his  view  of 
the  different  candidates,  he  grew  uneasy,  for  he 
knew  enough  of  the  man  patronized  by  the  leading 
members  of  the  club  to  set  him  down  without  any 
lack  of  charity  as  an  infidel. 

Not  to  be  seen  by  all  the  neighbourhood  walking 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         271 

in  a  friendly  way  with  Mr.  Luggett,  not  to  be 
called  Fogg  and  smiled  on  in  that  brotherly  style, 
delightful  as  the  contrast  was  with  the  usual  bit- 
ing, bitter  treatment  he  received,  could  Quality 
for  his  character's  sake,  nay,  for  the  sake  of  that 
faith  no  brighter,  no  warmer,  than  a  thin  curl  of 
smoke,  make  such  a  sacrifice. 

"  Ahem !  you  see,  Mr.  Luggett,  I  don't  agree 
with  Mr.  Bragg  in  opinions.  I  don't  so  much 
mean  politics  as  other  things,"  he  said,  not  ventur- 
ing the  word  religion. 

"Mere  trifles,  my  dear  Fogg,"  said  the  auc- 
tioneer, avoiding  the  subject  carefully ;  "  we  don't 
all  think  alike  on  everything,  you  know,  but  there 
are  points  on  which  all  sensible  men  meet,  and  this 
is  one." 

They  had  talked  so  long  that  the  bells  struck 
up  for  evening  service,  and  Quality,  when  next 
they  came  to  the  top  of  the  street,  stood  still. 

"  Take  another  turn,"  said  the  auctioneer, 
who  hoped  he  was  on  the  verge  of  getting  his 
promise. 

"  Thank  you ;  I  must  go  and  get  a  cup  of  tea," 
said  Quality. 

"  Tea  ?  trash  !  come  along  with  me  to  the  Three 
Tuns ;  we've  got  a  snug  party  there  to-night — pri- 


272  ETCHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

vate,  you  know,  all  private.  I'll  stand  treat,  and 
we'll  have  a  right  pleasant  evening;  come,  you 
don't  often  indulge  in  a  holiday." 

Now  came  a  struggle.  To  Davy  Bowles,  or 
even  if  Davy  had  been  there  to  hear,  there  would 
have  been  no  difficulty  in  saying,  "  I  am  going  to 
public  worship,"  but  there  he  stood  in  friendly  at- 
titude, alone  with  unbelieving,  religion-scorning 
Mr.  Luggett,  and  it  took  all  his  courage,  all  the 
force  of  that  thin  curl  of  smoke,  to  say,  "  Thank 
you,  but  I  always  go  to  church  or  chapel." 

"  You  can  miss  for  once,"  said  the  great  man. 

"I  never  miss,"  said  Quality,  who  found  the 
second  step  easier  than  the  first. 

"  Well,  come  when  you've  done,  then,"  said  the 
auctioneer  with  some  little  eifort,  for  he  was  de- 
termined to  carry  his  point  if  possible. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Luggett;  it's  very  good  of 
you  to  be  so  pressing,  but  I  never  go  to  the  public 
of  a  Sunday,"  said  Quality,  still  braver  as  he  got 
more  into  the  fight. 

Mr.  Luggett  gave  a  grunt  of  ill-concealed  con- 
tempt. "At  all  events,  Fogg,  you  go  with  us  in 
this,"  he  cried,  looking  in  his  face  with  an  almost 
threatening  aspect. 

"  Why,  indeed,  Mr.  Luggett,  I'm  sorry  I  can't 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         273 

promise  to  do  so,  but  Mr.  Bragg  is  a  gentleman 
with  such  different  principles,  as  I  may  say." 

"  Remember  one  thing,"  said  the  auctioneer — "  I 
only  deal  with  friends,  and,  more  than  that,  I've 
been  applied  to  for  that  shop  of  mine  which  I've 
improved  for  an  eating-house,  so  you  will  consider 
about  it ;  if  I  let  it  to  them  I  shall  deal  with  them, 
and  so  will  most  of  the  club,  I  believe.  Every- 
body has  a  right  to  his  own  opinion,  you  know,  and 
we  are  famous  for  sticking  to  ours,  so  please  your- 
self. Will  you  come?  or  will  you  promise  to  vote 
for  Bragg?" 

Quality's  knees  shook,  and  so  did  his  voice,  as 
he  said,  "  I'm  sure,  Mr.  Luggett,  you  wouldn't  be 
so  hard  upon  me !" 

"  Don't  you  be  sure  of  anything  but  that  I  will 
keep  my  word,"  said  the  auctioneer.  "  Will  you 
promise?" 

"  I  can't ;  I'm  sorry,  but  I  can't !"  said  Quality. 

"  Then  let  me  have  my  bill,  and  scratch  my 
name  out  of  your  ledger,"  said  the  auctioneer, 
wrathfully,  stalking  away  to  the  Three  Tuns, 
while  Quality  hastened  home  to  his  tea  and  his 
reflections. 

His  shop  looked  dark  and  desolate  when  he  en- 
tered it,  and  by  the  bell  he  knew  it  must  be  late. 

13 


274  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINOS. 

He  had  had  no  tea,  and  contemptuously  as  Mr. 
Luggett  had  spoken  of  tea,  it  was  one  of  Quality's 
great  comforts. 

He  stood  in  a  troubled,  uncertain  mood  for  a 
minute.  What  should  he  do?  go  off  to  service 
without  his  tea,  or  rekindle  his  fire,  which  had  gone 
out,  boil  his  kettle,  which  hung  cold  over  the  de- 
funct fire,  make  himself  as  comfortable  as  he  could 
in  his  present  state  of  agitation,  and  stay  at  home? 

He  resolved  at  last  on  a  compromise.  He  would 
have  his  tea,  and  then  go  for  half  the  service.  "  I 
can  get  in  quietly  to  my  own  place,"  he  thought. 

Accordingly,  his  mind  full  of  what  had  passed, 
he  started,  and  arrived  just  as  the  minister  had  be- 
gun his  discourse.  He  made  his  way  to  his  seat, 
but  found  a  man  there  before  him — a  stout,  tall 
man,  whose  elbows  were  planted  on  the  front  of 
the  seat,  while  his  massive  head  was  supported  by 
his  hands,  his  face  being  steadily  fixed  on  the 
preacher.  To  get  him  to  move  was  his  first  im- 
pulse, for  Quality  liked  order  and  preferred  his 
own  seat  to  another ;  but  as  well  might  he  have 
hoped  to  move  the  pillars  on  which  the  gallery 
rested.  A  little  push,  a  little  whisper,  both  as  in- 
effectual as  waves  on  a  rock,  and  he  subsided,  and 
prepared  to  place  himself  as  well  as  he  could. 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         275 

The  minister  was  delivering  a  heart-searching 
address,  to  which  many  seemed  attentively  listen- 
ing, but  no  one  looked  so  wholly  absorbed  as  the 
intruder  into  Quality's  seat;  he  did  not  move  a 
hair's  breadth  to  the  right  or  the  left. 

It  was  not  likely  that  Quality  could  give  much 
attention  to  what  was  going  on ;  his  mind  was 
wholly  occupied  with  the  events  of  the  afternoon. 
One  minute  he  was  ready  to  condemn  himself  for 
interfering  in  the  matter  at  all.  Why  didn't  he  say, 
"  I  don't  mean  to  vote  at  all"  ?  or  he  might  have 
gone  so  far  as  to  promise  to  consider  the  thing. 
After  all,  it  was  to  a  secular  office,  not  a  religious 
one,  they  wanted  to  elect  Mr.  Bragg ;  why  should 
he  have  stood  out?  he  might  have  voted  for  him, 
and  kept  in  with  Mr.  Luggett  and  the  club. 

Then,  even  while  he  fretted  over  his  precipitate 
refusal,  he  reflected  on  his  character  and  his  con- 
sistency. Could  he  ever  again  deliver  those  sen- 
timents which  he  prided  himself  on  uttering  so 
imposingly?  Could  he  ever  have  the  face  to  ex- 
pound to  a  young  disciple,  or  meet  the  gaze  of  an 
old  one,  if  he  took  part  with  an  infidel  against  a 
true  believer  ?  No  ! 

So  the  victory  was  on  the  side  of  right,  and  he 
had  just  come  to  the  conviction  that  he  had  done 


276  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

right,  when,  the  words  of  the  preacher  falling  in 
the  direction  of  that  subject,  he  was  greatly  com- 
forted by  the  terms  in  which  Christians  who  kept 
the  faith  and  confessed  Christ  before  men  were  com- 
mended and  encouraged. 

"  I  only  wish  Mr.  Luggett  could  hear  that !"  he 
thought;  and  he  made  comparisons  between  the 
auctioneer  and  himself,  much  to  the  prejudice  of 
the  former ;  as  for  instance,  "  Mr.  Luggett  is  a 
persecutor — I  am  persecuted  ;  Mr.  Luggett  is  on 
the  side  of  infidels — I  am  on  the  Lord's  side ;  Mr. 
Luggett  is  hard  to  the  poor — I  am  charitable  and 
kind ;  Mr.  Luggett  is  at  this  moment  in  a  public- 
house  drinking  —  I  am  in  the  house  of  God. 
"Wicked  Mr.  Luggett !  good  Quality  Fogg !" 

Then,  when  the  rewards  of  the  righteous  were 
enlarged  on,  he  triumphed  still  more.  After  all, 
Mr.  Luggett  was  but  a  man,  and  could  not  stand 
against  Providence,  and  could  not  hinder  his  being 
rewarded.  And  suppose  he  did  take  away  his 
custom,  and  by  influence  that  of  Mr.  Winks  and 
the  rest  of  the  club,  should  not  he  have  plenty 
left?  The  friends  of  Mr.  Golding's  party  would 
be  his  friends,  and  none  the  less  for  his  having 
suifered  on  account  of  him.  The  starting  a  new 
eating-house  was  awkward  certainly,  but  it  might 


QUALITY  FOGG1  S  OLD  LEDGER.         277 

not  answer  in  spite  of  Mr.  Luggett's  patronage ;  it 
was  a  large  neighbourhood,  and  could  support  two. 
He  thought  he  might  have  to  launch  out  a  little  at 
first,  to  increase  the  size  of  his  pies  and  put  a  few 
more  plums  into  his  puddings,  but  a  quick  sale 
would  pay  for  that.  Oh  yes,  he  felt  sure  he  should 
get  through,  and  was  almost  ready  to  give  a  hearty 
response  to  the  preacher  when  he  seemed  to  be  at 
the  end  of  his  sermon. 

Not  that  he  had  heard  what  had  come  for  some 
time  before  the  end,  for  he  had  been  too  busy  gath-' 
ering  up  all  that  was  agreeable  and  comforting 
throughout  to  do  that,  too  busy  in  foiling  Mr. 
Luggett  and  applying  to  him  the  denunciations  of 
defeat  and  confusion  against  the  wicked. 

But  the  minister  when  he  paused,  as  Quality 
thought,  from  having  finished,  did  so  only  to  col- 
lect all  his  energies  for  a  final  appeal,  and  he  broke 
the  solemn  silence,  in  which  heart  beatings  might 
almost  have  been  heard,  with  words  that  seemed 
spoken  straight  by  the  book  of  truth  itself: 

"'I  saw  the  dead,  small  and  great,  stand  before 
God,  and  the  books  were  opened,  and  another  book 
was  opened,  which  is  the  book  of  life,  and  the  dead 
were  judged  out  of  those  things  which  were  writ- 
ten in  the  books  according  to  their  works,  and  who- 


278  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

soever  was  not  found  written  in  the  book  of  life 
was  cast  into  the  lake  of  fire.' 

"  Is  your  name  in  that  book  ?" 

This  question  ho  repeated  with  deep  seriousness 
as  he  turned  from  side  to  side.  Then  he  fixed  his 
gaze  on  the  gallery,  and  seemed  by  his  eyes  to  be 
singling  out  Quality  to  answer  it,  who  tingled 
from  head  to  foot. 

The  only  conditions  on  which  a  place  in  that 
book  was  obtainable  were  then  briefly  given — 
briefly,  but  so  forcibly  that  the  unclouded  mind 
of  a  child  might  have  understood,  but  Quality's 
mind  was  clouded ;  he  was  sensible  of  nothing  but 
terror  and  misgiving. 

When  the  congregation  rose  to  depart,  he  saw 
for  the  first  time  that  his  seat  had  been  occupied 
by  Davy  Bowles. 

Davy  did  not  notice  him ;  his  attention  seemed 
more  occupied  by  thoughts  within  than  things 
without.  There  was  a  stoppage  at  the  doors ;  the 
sunshine  and  bright  sky  of  the  afternoon  had  been 
transient,  and  sleet  and  snow  were  now  borne  by 
the  driving  wind  with  violence  along  the  street. 
Quality  pulled  up  his  collar  and  put  his  hands  in 
his  pockets,  and  stood  to  watch  the  first  chance  of 
an  opening  in  the  crowd. 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         279 

"  Heigh  !  mind  the  little  girls !"  he  heard  Davy 
cry,  not  in  quite  such  hearty  tones  as  he  indulged 
in  in  his  shop,  but  in  the  same  cheery  key,  though 
subdued  in  pitch. 

"Going  far?"  he  heard  him  say.  "You'll  be 
blown  to  shivers  in  this  wind.  Here,  take  my 
hand  ;  I'll  get  you  through." 

There  was  no  difficulty  in  seeing  Davy,  who 
was,  like  King  Saul,  a  head  and  shoulders  above 
the  people,  and  to  make  him  more  conspicuous, 
he  had  taken  the  smaller  child  in  his  right  arm, 
while  he  held  the  other  in  the  powerful  vise  of 
the  left. 

"  We'll  get  through,  never  fear,  we'll  get 
through,"  he  cried  more  than  once,  though  he 
couldn't  understand,  any  more  than  could  Quality 
behind  him,  what  made  the  crowd  increasingly 
pi-ess  upon  them,  pushing  them  back  almost  into 
the  body  of  the  building. 

"  This  isn't  the  place  to  be  uncivil  in,  or  else  I'd 
see  the  meaning  of  all  this  pushing  and  shoving," 
said  Davy. 

He  had  hardly  spoken,  when  first  mutterings, 
then  cries  of  "  Fire !"  were  heard. 

"Fire!  where?"  exclaimed  voices  on  all  sides. 

Various  answers  were  given,  confused  and  con- 


280  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

tradictory,  but  from  the  direction  of  the  rush  i. 
seemed  to  be  between  the  chapel  and  Swan  lane. 

Quality  Fogg  now  pressed  anxiously  forward. 
"  Davy,  Davy  Bowles,  there's  a  good  fellow,  give 
me  a  help,  will  you  ?"  he  cried.  "  I'm  so  glad  to 
see  you  here !  What  an  awful  sermon  we've  had  ! 
Where's  the  fire?  Just  give  me  a  hand,  will 
you?" 

"Haven't  got  a  hand  to  spare,  Master  Fogg; 
but  if  you'll  just  step  back  again  and  take  care  of 
these  till  I  can  see  to  'em,  I'll  go  and  find  out 
where  the  fire  is,  and  lend  a  hand  there  and  come 
back  to  you." 

So  saying,  he  thrust  aside  the  crowd,  deposited 
the  little  girls  by  Quality,  and  in  another  second 
had  vanished,  disposing  with  as  little  difficulty  as 
ceremony  of  the  mass  around. 

"  Why,  it's  you,  my  dear !"  cried  Quality,  look- 
ing at  one  of  the  frightened  children ;  "  who'd  have 
thought  of  seeing  you  here  at  night  without  your 
mother?" 

"  Mother  couldn't  leave  Tommy,"  answered  the 
child. 

"And  how  is  Tommy?"  said  Quality,  seating 
himself  with  them  by  the  stove. 

The  child  said  he  had  been  better  for  the  a-la- 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         281 

mode  beef,  and  her  mother  thought  if  he  could 
have  it  for  a  long  time  he  would  get  well.  Quality 
thought  Mrs.  Grant  was  probably  right,  and  he 
was  sorry  that  a  meal  of  it,  or  even  two  meals,  or 
even  three  meals,  would  not  effect  a  cure ;  if  such 
had  been  the  case,  he  would  have  spared  it  to  him, 
but  to  keep  him  in  it  a  long  time  was  not  to  be 
thought  of,  so  he  changed  the  subject,  and  finding 
that  the  door  was  clear  and  the  crowd  had  passed 
on,  he  said  they  must  be  going. 

The  sleet  was  driving  with  unabated  fury ;  the 
children  were  very  poorly  clad,  and  Quality  was  at 
a  loss  how  to  dispose  of  them.  He  was  afraid  of 
letting  them  loose  at  the  doors  lest  Davy  should 
reproach  him,  well  knowing  that  he  would  have 
carried  them  home  and  put  them  safe  under  shelter. 

"  But  then,  look  at  him  and  me !  why,  I  could 
no  more  carry  them  than  they  could  carry  me!" 
he  thought. 

He  was  puzzled  and  vexed ;  he  heartily  wished 
he  had  not  applied  to  Davy  for  help;  if  he  had 
kept  his  own  counsel,  he  would  have  saved  himself 
this  encumbrance.  And  he  wanted  to  know  about 
the  fire,  too,  dreadfully;  how  could  he  tell  but 
what  it  was  in  Swan  lane?  But  fretting  was  of 
no  use. 


282  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

So,  sheltering  the  children  as  well  as  he  could, 
he  walked  off,  struck  as  he  left  the  chapel  with  the 
crimson  glow  of  the  sky. 

"  It  must  be  very  near,"  he  remarked,  nervously. 
"  Make  haste,  my  dears,  get  on ;  I  do  believe  it's 
in  Swan  lane. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

NOTWITHSTANDING  all  his  haste,  Quality  was  a 
long  time — a  very  long  time  it  seemed  to  him — be- 
fore he  could  deposit  his  charge  at  the  pawnbro- 
ker's door,  for  the  storm  and  the  wind  were  against 
them,  and  the  streets  were  slippery,  and  the  rush  of 
people  hastening  to  the  fire  was  great — people  not 
too  ceremonious  in  their  manner  at  any  time,  and 
so  rough  now  when  attracted  by  sight-seeing  that 
the  children  had  hard  work  to  keep  their  hold  of 
their  guide. 

"  Where  is  the  fire  ?"  he  asked  of  several ;  but 
the  wind  overpowered  all  other  sounds,  and  he  got 
no  answer. 

"Good-night,  my  dears;  tell  Tommy  he  shall 
have  a  little  more  a-la-mode  soup,  and  I  hope  he 
will  get  better,"  he  said  as  he  parted  with  them, 
Btorm  and  wind  and  the  peril  of  fire  to  his  shop 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         283 

not  being  sufficient  to  make  him  forget  his  man- 
ners. 

Now  he  slipped  on  as  fast  as  he  could,  the  ruddy 
flames  now  and  then  lighting  the  way  with  terrible 
brilliancy.  In  ordinary  circumstances  he  would 
speedily  have  been  at  his  door,  but  the  crush  of 
people  seemed  to  increase,  and  being  small  and  not 
very  strong,  he  was  nearly  knocked  over  several 
times  and  forced  to  stand  up  against  a  wall  or  in  a 
doorway  to  give  place  to  others.  But  at  last  he 
was  carried  on  by  the  crowd  round  the  corner  into 
Swan  lane,  and  brought  face  to  face  with  the  truth. 
The  roof  of  the  Three  Tuns  had  fallen  in,  and  the 
fire  was  raging  furiously  among  the  neighbouring 
houses. 

"  Oh  what  a  mercy  the  wind  blows  that  way !" 
he  cried,  though  he  expected  every  moment  to  tw 
suffocated  by  the  pressure  of  the  crowd  and  the 
heat  of  the  fire. 

At  last  a  movement  from  the  scene  of  the  dis- 
aster, caused  by  the  carrying  of  a  litter,  made  the 
crowd  separate  a  little,  and  to  his  great  delight, 
Quality  was  by  this  means  carried  over  close  to 
his  own  shop. 

As  soon  as  he  could  manage  it,  he  got  the  key 
out  of  his  pocket  and  let  himself  in,  and  shutting 


284  RICHES  WITHOUT   WINGS. 

and  barring  the  door  behind  him,  sat  down  to  re- 
cover a  little  from  his  terror  and  fatigue. 

"Oh  dear!"  he  exclaimed  as  he  sat  fanning 
himself  by  the  counter,  for  the  flames  and  crush- 
ing had  turned  a  cold  winter  night  into  the  climate 
of  the  dog-days — "  oh  dear !  how  true  it  is  that 
wickedness  is  sure  to  be  punished  !  Now,  I  dare 
say  if  those  people  had  been  where  I  was,  doing 
their  duty  as  I  was  doing  mine,  this  fire  would 
never  have  happened.  It's  very  striking,  very.  I 
hope  Mr.  Luggett  will  lay  it  to  heart.  I  hope  it 
will  soften  him  a  little  toward  me;  there's  nothing 
like  affliction  for  softening  the  heart.  I  hope 
poor  Mr.  Luggett  and  the  landlord  and  all  of  the 
others  will  learn  to  say,  ( It  is  good  to  be  afflict- 
ed.' They  must  all  have  been  frightened  if  not 
burnt." 

Having  pursued  these  meditations  till  he  felt  a 
little  recovered,  he  got  up  and  struck  a  light  to 
examine  whether  the  heat  had  in  any  way  affected 
his  goods.  No ;  all  was  safe,  and  as,  by  the  noise, 
the  crowd  was  evidently  going  lower  down  the 
street,  he  concluded  that  the  fire  was  continuing  to 
destroy  in  that  direction. 

He  had  seen  Davy  Bowles  frequently,  while  he 
himself  was  fixed  in  the  mass  like  a  cork  in  a  bot- 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         285 

tie,  moving  rapidly  from  place  to  place ;  his  height 
made  him  conspicuous  everywhere. 

"  Poor  Davy  !"  he  thought ;  "  he  never  minds 
danger.  But  then  he's  so  strong ;  I  would  go  out 
and  help  if  I  had  a  frame  like  his,  that  I  would ; 
but  I  think,  as  it  is,  as  I  can  be  of  no  use  to  any 
one,  I'll  go  to  bed,  for  there'll  be  plenty  of  business 
to-morrow." 

The  feeling  which  he  would  not  have  confessed 
to — of  its  being  an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  any 
good — was  strong  in  his  heart  as  with  a  complacent 
look  he  arranged  and  counted  over  his  stores  for 
Monday  morning.  When  he  had  done,  and  rap- 
idly glanced  with  a  ready  reckoner's  eye  over  the 
sum  they  would  produce,  he  returned  to  his  ex- 
pression of  concern  for  his  neighbours,  and  pre- 
pared to  go  to  bed.  But  he  had  hardly  got  his 
foot  on  the  first  stair  when  the  little  bell  rang,  and 
the  pies  danced  to  a  salute  that  he  knew  came  from 
no  other  hand  but  Davy's. 

"Master  Fogg,  Master  Fogg!  come  quick,  let 
us  in !"  cried  that  worthy,  while  the  trembling 
fingers  of  Quality  essayed  in  vain  to  undo  the  bars 
and  bolts.  "  I  wouldn't  believe  you  could  be  so 
quiet  in  your  hole,  only  they  saw  you  go  in.  Come, 
be  quick  !  we're  in  a  hurry !" 


286  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

"  Now  don't  ye,  Davy,  don't  ye,  that's  a  good 
fellow!  Do  have  a  little  patience!  I  shall  never 
get  the  master  of  it  if  you  worrit  me  so,"  he 
cried. 

A  laugh  from  Davy  reassured  him  a  little,  for 
part  of  his  nervousness  arose  from  fear  lest  he 
would  call  him  to  account  for  going  to  bed  so  quiet 
when  all  his  neighbours  were  busy  helping. 

"  Oh  dear !  you  can't  all  come  in  at  once !"  he 
cried,  in  consternation,  when,  on  opening  the  door, 
he  saw  Davy  with  a  dozen  or  more  men  behind 
him. 

"  Not  while  you're  here  to  fill  up  the  shop,"  said 
Davy ;  "  but  you  can  go  to  bed  and  leave  us  to 
help  ourselves." 

Quality  immediately  got  behind  the  counter,  and 
the  men  as  many  as  could  pressed  in. 

Davy,  looking  significantly  at  Quality,  said, 
"  You  can  keep  count ;  we'll  make  it  good  among 
us !"  and  handed  over  whatever  he  could  find  to 
his  comrades,  who,  after  drinking  heartily  of  a 
pitcher  of  water,  which  Quality  had  provided  for 
his  morning  cooking,  did  ample  justice  to  his  pro- 
visions. 

"  Now,"  said  Davy,  "  we  can  go  to  work  doubles 
again,  and  you  can  go  to  bed." 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         287 

Quality  thought  there  was  a  tone  of  contempt 
in  the  words  thus  spoken  to  him. 

"  I'm  sure  I  sha'n't  sleep  if  I  do,"  he  said  in 
melancholy  accents. 

"  Then  you  might  as  well  stop  up  and  give  a 
hand,"  said  Davy. 

"  I !  Think  of  me  in  a  crowd  like  this  !"  said 
Quality.  "I  was  killed  almost  in  it  when  I  was 
providentially  brought  to  my  own  door." 

"  If  Providence  brought  you,  it  was  as  you 
might  do  something;  so  just  keep  a  lookout,  and 
see  if  there's  nobody  as  would  be  better  for  a 
mouthful ;  you  can  do  that,  I  suppose  ?"  said 
Davy,  hastily. 

"  Oh  yes ;  if  anybody  would  like  to  come  in  and 
sit  here  for  a  bit  till  it's  got  quiet,  I  will  accom- 
modate them,  I'm  sure;  please  tell  Mr.  Luggett 
or  any  of  the  company  so." 

"  Mr.  Luggett,"  said  Davy,  going  out  with  his 
followers ;  "  Mr.  Luggett's  gone  to  better  quarters, 
poor  fellow !" 

"  Gone  to  better  quarters !"  said  Quality ;  "  what 
does  he  mean  ?  Surely  he's  not  dead,  for  though 
God  is  very  merciful — yet — "  and  he  called  to 
mind  the  denunciations  of  the  sermon,  all  of  which 
he  had  liberally  laid  on  the  head  of  the  auctioneer. 


288  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

"  He  had  no  time  for  repentance !  To  be  cut  off 
in  his  wickedness  was  so  shocking !  Davy  couldn't 
mean  by  better  quarters,  heaven  ;  but  then  he  said 
poor  fellow;  so  I  should  think  he  must  be  killed. 
Davy  is  very  ignorant,  although  he  has  got  a  great 
deal  more  religious  lately.  Poor  Mr.  Luggett ! 
I'm  very  sorry  for  him,  very  sorry;  it's  right  to 
pity  our  enemies,  and  I  do  pity  him,  poor  man. 
Well,  I  shall  lose  nothing  by  my  conscientious 
stand  out  about  Mr.  Golding.  I  wonder  whether 
that  little  shop  will  be  let  for  an  eating-house  now 
he's  gone  ?  It  depends  on  who  comes  into  his  prop- 
erty. He's  left  a  deal  behind  him  !" 

And  with  the  houses  and  money  invested  which 
had  made  the  auctioneer  so  great  a  man  came  into 
Quality's  mind  the  beautiful  coat  and  six  excellent 
pairs  of  ribbed  woolen  stockings.  "  Well,  we  must 
all  go  sooner  or  later ;  he  was  a  tall  stout  man, 
they  would  not  fit  me,  or  else  as  he  has  no  one 
that  cares  about  him  to  come  after  him — if  there's 
a  sale — " 

Such  were  some  of  the  thoughts  that  crowded 
into  his  mind  as  he  set  his  shop  in  order,  having 
first  put  down  the  amount  of  goods  disposed  of  by 
Davy  and  his  men. 

So  little  was  left  for  the  next  day's  demands  that 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         289 

Quality,  seeing  it  was  incumbent  on  him  to  sit  up, 
after  Davy's  rebuke,  in  case  other  applicants  should 
come,  thought  it  would  be  better — certainly  not 
wrong — to  make  a  fresh  batch  of  pies  and  a  kettle 
of  a-la-mode.  So  he  lit  his  fire  and  went  to  work, 
happy  to  hear  that  the  din  in  the  street  was  grow- 
ing more  and  more  remote. 

The  nights  were  at  the  longest,  and  after  he  had 
filled  his  tins  all  ready  for  the  baker's  earliest  oven, 
and  got  his  a-la-mode  simmering  delightfully,  so 
that  it  would  be  all  right  for  customers,  he  found 
he  had  an  hour  or  two  left  before  ordinary  getting- 
up  time.  He  would  have  gone  to  bed,  but  he  was 
afraid  of  Davy ;  he  felt  his  reputation  was  at  stake 
if  he  took  his  ease  in  a  time  of  such  general  trouble 
and  was  discovered. 

So,  that  he  might  not  fall  asleep  in  his  chair  and 
thus  endanger  starting  another  fire,  he  thought  he 
would  read.  He  took  his  Bible;  he  tried  to  re- 
member the  text,  he  tried  to  find  the  verses  which 
had  produced  such  a  thrilling  effect  on  the  congre- 
gation, but  he  could  not  remember  where  they 
were.  He  tried  to  read  the  third  of  John,  but  he 
was  sure  if  he  kept  at  the  Bible  much  longer  he 
should  fall  asleep,  so  he  put  it  down  ;  and  suddenly 
recollecting  that  it  was  Monday  morning,  he  got 

19 


290  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

out  his  ledger,  not  to  work  at  it,  but  to  look  it 
over,  and  he  was  wide  awake  immediately. 

He  turned  to  Mr.  Luggett's  account;  it  was  a 
heavy  one.  Poor  Mr.  Luggett!  how  little  he 
thought  when  he  said  his  name  was  to  be  crossed 
out  that  it  would  be  so  by  necessity !  It  was  a 
heavy  bill,  very  heavy.  To  offend  such  a  customer 
must  have  required  great  strength  of  conscience. 
Quality  grew  prouder  and  prouder  of  himself  as  he 
thought  of  it ;  and  when  he  reflected  that  the  suc- 
ceeding auctioneer  would,  it  was  most  likely,  deal 
with  him,  knowing  nothing  of  the  difference  be- 
tween them,  he  could  not  but  confess — very  softly, 
in  the  middle  of  his  heart — that  shocking  as  it 
was,  and  much  as  he  was  bound  to  lament  the 
untimely  fate  of  Mr.  Luggett,  yet,  taken  in  a  busi- 
ness point  of  view,  it  was  rather  an  advantageous 
arrangement  for  him. 

It  struck  him  that  if  the  fire  had  come  in  his 
direction  it  would  have  ruined  him  quite;  for  not 
only  would  his  goods  have  gone,  but  his  ledger — 
which  contained  the  claims  of  the  last  year,  and  in 
some  cases  of  years  previous,  on  his  customers — 
would  have  perished. 

"This  table,"  he  thought  as  he  replaced  the 
ledger  in  the  drawer,  "  is  as  old  and  dry  as  tinder ; 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.        291 

I  must  get  a  safety-box  to  keep  it  in.  Let  me  see ; 
there's  the  zinc  safe,  where  I  keep  my  meat.  I'll 
always  have  it  there  of  nights ;  that  lock  is  as  good 
as  this." 

Very  drowsy  was  he  throughout  the  next  day ; 
business  kept  him  alive  and  awake,  but  between 
the  visits  of  customers  he  had  many  a  doze.  He 
was  surprised  that  Davy  didn't  look  in  upon  him ; 
he  meant  to  tell  him  how  he  had  sat  up  all  night, 
to  be  ready  for  the  call  of  duty,  but  he  did  not 
make  his  appearance.  He  got  very  confused  in- 
formation from  all  sources.  No  one  seemed  to 
know  what  had  happened  to  any  one.  Several 
had  been  taken  to  the  hospital ;  some  said  that 
Mr.  Luggett  and  the  landlord  of  the  Three  Tuns 
were  dead,  others  that  they  were  not. 

"  I  wish  Davy  would  come,"  thought  Quality 
several  times;  "but  he  will  be  here  to-night.  I 
suppose  he'll  see  to  those  fellows  paying  for  what 
they  had.  It's  a  serious  concern,  feeding  a  dozen 
hungry  men  for  nothing.  But  Davy  is  very  hon- 
est; he  won't  see  me  imposed  upon.  Of  course 
the  people  they  worked  for  to  save  them  from  the 
fire  must  pay.  Well,  I've  got  the  account.  I'll 
slip  it  into  the  ledger  when  I  put  it  into  the  safe 
to-night.  One  can't  be  too  careful." 


292  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

What  a  strange,  weary  day  it  was !  Notwith- 
standing the  chink,  chink,  chink,  so  continual  in 
the  till,  very  glad  was  he  when  closing-time  came 
and  all  fear  of  interruption,  even  from  Davy,  was 
over. 

He  went  out  first  to  see  how  things  looked. 
Very  dismal  indeed  they  were ;  a  scaffolding  had 
been  hastily  raised  before  the  ruins  of  the  Three 
Tuns  and  the  adjacent  houses,  and  policemen  were 
there  to  keep  off  thieves. 

"Is  it  quite  out?"  inquired  Quality  of  one  near 
him. 

"  No,  but  it's  next  to  it.  The  fall  of  the  wind 
has  helped  it,"  said  the  man. 

"It's  beginning  to  rise  again,"  said  Quality, 
drawing  his  coat  up  to  his  ears. 

"  Yes,  but  it  seems  to  have  changed  in  this  last 
hour,"  said  the  policeman. 

Quality  was  soon  in  bed  and  fast  asleep.  Not  a 
thought  or  a  fancy  of  any  kind  disturbed  his  heavy 
slumber  for  hours ;  but  when  he  woke  he  started 
up,  believing  he  was  at  the  bakehouse  putting  in 
his  pies.  Certainly  it  was  hot,  very  hot.  And 
what  was  that  crack  and  the  light  that  licked  the 
window?  Was  the  house  on  fire?  He  jumped 
up,  scrambled  on  his  clothes,  growing  more  and 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         293 

more  sure  that  the  change  of  the  wind  had  brought 
destruction  to  him. 

Whether  from  his  being  so  drowsy  he  had 
dropped  a  spark  among  his  very  fire-feeding  goods, 
or  whether  the  wind,  now  as  strong  from  the  west 
as  it  had  been  from  the  east,  had  blown  across 
some  portion  of  the  burning  mass,  which  settling 
on  his  thatched  roof  had  set  it  on  fire,  could  not  be 
known ;  but  now  it  was  with  extreme  difficulty 
Quality  escaped ;  how,  he  knew  not. 

Again  he  was  one  in  the  crowd,  which  collected 
once  more  with  magic  rapidity,  but  not  now  to 
watch  the  ravages  of  the  flames  on  the  property  of 
others ;  no,  his  shop  seemed  singled  out  as  yet  for 
their  fury.  In  a  strange  stupor,  unable  to  com- 
prehend the  whole,  he  beheld  the  water  playing  on 
the  quickly  prostrate  ruins.  As  he  was  pushed  he 
went,  still  gazing  as  if  in  a  dream  at  the  scene  be- 
fore him. 

Davy  was  not  there,  but  he  did  not  miss  him. 
He  missed  nothing,  understood  nothing.  The  roof 
fell ;  the  heavy  old  eyebrow-like  window-ledge  fell ; 
all  fell,  and  the  flames,  when  the  devastation  was 
complete,  seemed  satisfied.  The  houses  on  either 
side  though  injured  were  spared — only  his  shop 
had  been  destroyed. 


294  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

"  What  a  mercy  that  the  wind  shifted !"  cried 
the  people  that  lived  below  the  Three  Tuns. 

Everybody  was  sorry  for  Quality ;  but  precisely 
the  same  view  that  he  had  taken  of  the  misfortunes 
of  others  was  taken  of  his.  His  neighbours  could 
hardly  pity  him  for  rejoicing  in  their  own  escape. 

"  He  is  in  a  fit !"  cried  one,  seeing  him  sink 
against  the  wall. 

"  He's  hurt !"  cried  another ;  "  take  him  to  the 
hospital." 

And  hurt  indeed  he  was,  though  hardly  sensible 
of  the  pain,  from  the  stupefying  effect  of  what  he 
had  witnessed.  He  was  placed  on  a  litter,  and  as 
he  was  carried  along  a  confusion  was  within  greater 
even  than  that  which  was  around  him.  He  did 
not  know  where  he  was  going  nor  what  was  hap- 
pening. He  fancied  he  was  in  bed  and  asleep  and 
dreaming,  and  by  the  time  he  arrived  at  the  hos- 
pital he  was  entirely  insensible. 

And  insensible  he  remained  for  a  long  time,  and 
insensibility  changed  to  a  rambling  state,  during 
which  he  was  quite  unconscious  of  all  that  had 
taken  place. 

He  thought  some  one  was  sitting  on  his  arm, 
•which  he  could  not  raise,  for  it  had  been  much 
burnt.  He  repeatedly  called  out  to  Davy  to  help 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         295 

him.  "  Do,  Davy,  there's  a  good  fellow ;  you're 
so  strong.  Davy,  I  say,  about  those  pies?"  he 
would  almost  always  add  to  his  earnest  eutreaties 
for  help.  But  fever  was  subdued,  and  though  very 
feeble  he  at  last  awoke  from  a  restful  sleep  con- 
scious and  rational. 

Poor  Quality  !  what  a  waking  it  was  ! 

"  Where  am  I  ?"  he  asked  the  nurse. 

"  In  the  hospital,"  she  answered. 

"  Hospital !"  he  said,  looking  round  the  ward ; 
then  with  a  groan,  as  the  truth  loomed  heavily  in 
the  distance,  he  closed  his  eyes,  from  which  the 
tears  stole  over  his  wasted  cheeks. 

"  You  mustn't  fret,"  said  the  nurse,  "  or  you'll 
be  bad  again.  Here,  take  this." 

And  she  administered  a  cordial,  which  he  pas- 
sively received  with  his  natural  politeness. 

For  some  days  he  lay  on  the  bed  before  he  was 
allowed  to  talk  or  to  ask  questions  concerning  the 
calamity.  His  arm  and  shoulder  were  much  in- 
jured— the  surgeon  had  talked  of  amputation — 
and  it  was  doubtful  whether  they  would  be  of  any 
use  to  him  again. 

So,  a  cripple,  his  shop  gone,  his  goods  gone,  all 
gone,  what  was  he  to  do  ? 

And  he  dared  not  ask  a  question,  for  the  nurse 


296  RICHES  WITHOUT  WIN  OS. 

was  peremptory,  and  though  his  case  was  a  piteous 
one,  yet  there  were  worse  there. 

No  one  had  asked  for  him,  no  one  had  inquired 
about  him,  the  nurse  said ;  remarking,  "  Oh,  among 
so  many  as  was  hurt  you  can't  expect  it,  and  if 
you've  no  family  to  look  to  you,  it's  not  likely 
others  will  interfere." 

But  she  was  mistaken — he  had  a  visitor.  He 
had  been  there  three  weeks ;  the  doctor  had  told 
him  that  all  the  remainder  of  his  property,  such 
trifles  as  the  flames  had  spared,  would  be  protected 
from  pillage  by  the  police.  He  was  trying  to 
harden  himself  to  bear  all  that  was  thus  laid  upon 
him  when  he  heard  a  child's  voice.  Little  Tommy 
Grant  had  valiantly  fought  his  way  to  his  bedside. 
.  "Tommy  !"  he  cried,  overcome  with  joy  at  see- 
ing some  one  who  felt  for  him. 

"  I  am  so  sorry  for  you,  Mr.  Fogg !"  said  the 
child.  "  I  am  better,  a  great  deal  better.  Mother 
says  that  stewed  beef  you  brought  me  made  quite  a 
turn  in  my  illness,  and  I've  been  getting  better 
ever  since,  and  my  uncle  has  come  to  us,  and  we've 
moved  from  Harp  court  to  a  better  place,  and 
we're  very  comfortable.  We  found  out  that  you 
had  been  brought  here,  and  as  soon  as  I  might 
come  out  mother  let  me  come  here  to  see  you,  but 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         297 

I  tried  ever  so  hard  before  they'd  give  me  leave  to 
come  up." 

Quality  cried  with  delight  as  the  child  fondled 
him  and  assured  him  he  would  soon  be  better. 

"  AVe  pray  for  you  every  day,  Mr.  Fogg ;  mother 
does,  and  we  all  do  together,  and  I  do  myself, 
and  I'm  sure  you'll  get  well,"  said  the  child 
earnestly. 

Quality  felt  the  first  ray  of  comfort  and  hope  as 
the  glistening  eyes  of  the  still  delicate-looking 
child  fixed  themselves  fondly  on  him. 

"  Mother  would  have  come  to  see  you,  but  she 
has  been  so  busy,  and  so  have  they  all  been  busy. 
I  am  not  able  to  do  anything,  you  see,  so  I  begged 
to  come  and  see  you.  My  uncle  says  that  very 
soon  they  will  not  have  to  work  hard  and  then 
I  shall  go  to  school ;  aren't  you  glad  of  that,  dear 
Mr.  Fogg?" 

Poor  Quality  could  not  feel  glad  about  anything 
just  then;  he  was  indeed  pleased  to  hear  that 
others  were  happier,  but  his  own  troubles  pressed 
so  heavily  on  his  heart  that  he  could  not  rise  to  joy 
of  any  kind. 

"  But  you  will  soon  be  up  and  come  from  this 
place,  Mr.  Fogg;  and  then  wherever  we  live,  I 
will  come  and  see  you,"  said  Tommy,  who  saw  the 


298  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

anguish  of  his  friend  with  tender  concern,  but 
knew  not  how  to  soothe  it. 

"  I  shall  have  no  home  perhaps,  my  dear,"  said 
Quality,  in  deep  dejection ;  "  my  property  is  all 
destroyed,  and  I  cannot  get  anybody  to  inquire 
about  it;  they  tell  me  there's  nothing  saved — 
nothing;  and  you  see,  my  dear,  I'm  a  poor  cripple 
now,  so  what  little  money  I  have  saved  will  be  all 
I  shall  have  to  live  upon.  I  shall  never  make  any 
more — never !" 

Tommy  did  what  he  could  to  console  him ;  he 
kissed  his  forehead,  and  stroked  his  hand,  and  tried 
to  smile  hopefully,  but  the  tears  were  in  his  eyes. 
"  Mr.  Fogg,  dear,"  he  said  as  he  brushed  them 
away,  "  my  uncle  gave  me  sixpence,  and  I  bought 
you  a  beautiful  slice  of  plum-pudding,  like  what 
you  gave  Bessie  that  night.  I  thought  you  might 
be  glad  of  it,  but  the  porter  took  it  from  me. 
Wasn't  that  very  ill  natured  of  him?" 

"  It's  quite  right,  my  dear,  he  was  only  doing  his 
duty;  you  know  we  must  always  do  our  duty," 
said  Quality,  forgetting  for  the  moment  his  sorrow 
and  his  pain  in  the  sympathy  of  his  little  friend, 
and  falling  into  his  old  way  of  teaching. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Fogg,  that's  always  the  way  you 
talk !"  said  Tommy,  with  great  simplicity ;  "  and 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         299 

I  know  something  by  that — something  so  good  to 
know !" 

His  eyes  grew  brighter  as  he  spoke,  and  he  nod- 
ded very  significantly  at  the  patient,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "  Shall  I  tell  you  what  it  is  ?" 

"  What  is  it,  Tommy  ?  I'm  sure  I  shall  be  glad 
of  any  good  news  now,"  said  Quality,  sighing. 

"  Why — why — you  are  born  again  ;  you  are,  de- 
pend upon  it,  dear  Mr.  Fogg !  Uncle  has  been 
telling  me  all  about  the  meaning  of  the  third  of 
John,  and  I  think  I  understand  it ;  and  one  of  the 
ways  to  know  if  you  are  born  again  is — talking  as 
you  talk,"  said  Tommy,  in  an  earnest  whisper. 

"  Ah,  my  dear,"  said  Quality,  peevishly,  "  talk- 
ing isn't  everything." 

"  I  know  it ;  uncle  says  doing  is  the  thing ;  but 
then  you  are  so  good,  Mr.  Fogg — you  have  been 
always  good  !  Didn't  you  give  me  that  stuff  that 
mother  always  says  was  the  beginning  of  my  get- 
ting better?  and  you  came  to  see  me;  and  you 
always  taught  me  something  when  I  went  to  your 
shop." 

"  Oh,  my  dear !"  said  Quality,  the  tears  coming 
thick  into  his  eyes,  "  don't  talk  of  my  goodness.  I 
haven't  got  any  goodness  !"  And  the  thought  of 
his  condition  pressed  heavily  on  his  heart. 


300  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

Tommy  found  that  the  more  he  tried  to  convince 
his  friend  of  his  happy  condition,  the  more  uneasy 
lie  seemed  to  grow ;  and  he  stood,  looking  pained 
and  perplexed,  by  the  bedside  in  silence. 

"Who  is  your  uncle,  my  dear?"  asked  Quality, 
after  a  pause,  willing  to  change  the  subject. 

"He  is  my  father's  brother,  just  come  from 
abroad,  and  he  is  very  good ;  he  is  going  to  help 
my  mother  more  and  more,  he  says.  Shall  I  ask 
him  to  come  and  see  you,  Mr.  Fogg,  dear  ?" 

"  Oh,  don't  trouble  him,"  said  Quality,  sadly. 

"  It  won't  trouble  him ;  I  shall  tell  him  all 
about  you,  and  I  know  he  will  come  and  see  you," 
said  the  child,  earnestly. 

There  was  a  very  tender  parting  between  the  two 
friends;  and  when  Tommy  had  left  him,  Quality 
was  engrossed  by  thoughts  new  and  strange. 

Tommy  had  drawn  just  the  picture  of  him  that 
he  had  once  drawn  of  himself — a  pattern  of  pro- 
priety, unblemished  in  name,  and  so  kind !  But 
in  those  weeks  of  suffering  he  had  been  taught 
new  things;  he  had  come  to  the  conviction  that 
his  religion  was  a  sham,  and  that  he  was  not  only 
deficient  in  good  works,  but  exceeded  abundantly 
in  bad  ones.  "  Pride,  vain-glory  and  hypocrisy," 
he  now  saw  stamped  on  the  best  of  his  good  deeds, 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         301 

and,  alas !  envy  and  much  uncharitableness  stood 
as  witnesses  against  him,  to  the  confusion  of  his 
conscience. 

It  was  hard  to  lose  both  worlds  at  once,  and  he 
seemed  to  have  done  so,  for  all  his  savings  would 
hardly  purchase  an  annuity  that  would  place  him 
above  want;  and  as  to  the  shop,  with  that  had 
perished  every  evidence  of  claim  on  his  creditors. 
The  old  ledger  must  have  been  consumed,  though 
in  the  safe  not  a  vestige  of  it  had  been  discovered. 
So  instead  of  the  busy  life  he  had  led  in  that  snug 
little  hive  where  he  had  gathered  his  pence  with 
such  satisfaction,  hoping  to  come  out  at  last  "  Mr. 
Fogg  retired  from  business/'  or,  like  Mr.  Luggett, 
to  follow  it  only  for  diversion,  he  must  be  content 
with  doing  nothing  and  being  nobody  to  the  end  ! 
This  was  bad  enough ;  but  what  if,  in  addition  to 
this,  his  name  was  not  found  written  in  that  book 
of  life,  or  he  was  not  "  born  again,"  and  so  had  no 
hope  of  the  world  to  come !  While  he  felt  sure 
of  this  world  he  was  content  to  leave  the  prospect 
of  the  next  in  the  mists  of  uncertainty,  but  now 
that  this  had  vanished  the  case  was  altered — the 
truth  of  himself  came  vividly  before  him.  In- 
stead of  being  encouraged  to  hope  for  those  good 
things  in  heaven  which,  in  his  prosperity,  had  made 


302  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

a  very  pretty  undefined  background  to  the  things 
lie  had  in  possession,  he  began  now  to  despair  of 
being  forgiven;  and  Tommy's  efforts  to  comfort 
him  had  placed  the  top-stone  on  his  fears.  "  I 
born  again !  no,  I'm  not.  I  don't  know  it ;  but 
I  know  this — that  Davy  told  the  truth,  though  he 
offended  me  at  the  time,  when  he  said  it  took  more 
than  a  good  turn  now  and  then  to  make  a 
Christian." 

And  Davy's  parting  words :  "  I  all  right !  you 
all  right !"  sounded  in  his  ears  frequently  through 
the  tedious  hours  of  that  weary  night  with  the 
chilling  effect  of  a  passing  bell. 


CHAPTER  V. 

SPRING  was  coming,  and  it  was  an  early  spring. 
There  was  a  broad  terrace  before  the  back  of  the 
hospital,  around  which  lay  pleasant  gardens  in 
which  the  convalescent  patients  had  liberty  to  walk. 
These  were  gay  with  the  crocus  and  other  early 
flowers,  while  the  sward  wore  a  bright,  refreshing 
green. 

Quality  was  sitting  for  a  few  minutes  on  a  seat 
in  the  sunshine  to  regain  his  breath,  for  he  had 
been  sadly  weakened  by  pain  and  long  confinement. 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         303 

He  was  very  pale,  very  thin,  and  one  arm  was  in 
a  sling,  while  a  crutch  was  under  the  other.  He 
looked  pensively  around  him ;  children,  old  men, 
men  and  women  in  the  prime  of  life,  were  there. 
He  sat  alone ;  he  never  was  in  spirits  to  converse 
with  any  one.  He  was  ashamed  now  to  talk  in  his 
old  strain ;  he  felt  as  if  he  had  no  right  to  do  it. 
He  had  not  received  another  visit  from  Tommy; 
he  had  not  seen  his  uncle.  No  one  had  been  to  see 
him.  He  felt  very  deserted,  but  he  was  not  angry ; 
he  was  resigned  to  all. 

From  the  terrace  the  great  cemetery  grounds 
were  visible.  He  looked  toward  them ;  the  large 
monuments  stood  out  in  some  distinctness ;  he  had 
occasionally  walked  through  them,  and  remem- 
bered them  well.  A  slight  shudder  crept  over  him 
as  he  thought  that  he  must  soon  lie  there,  even  if 
he  survived  a  few  lingering,  painful  years.  Once 
he  had  contemplated  having  a  good-looking  tomb 
raised  over  him,  when  the  time  should  come  that 
he  must  die,  with  satisfaction,  but  now  he  felt: 
"  Oh,  if  I  could  only  get  to  heaven,  a  green  sod 
or  a  brown  clod  would  be  enough,  without  a  stone 
of  any  kind!  What  a  folly  it  is  to  mind  such 
things!" 

"Why,   Master  Fogg!    caught  you  at    last!" 


304  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

cried  a  familiar  voice,  breaking  in  on  his  medi- 
tations. 

Quality  almost  expected  to  hear  the  bell  ring 
and  see  the  little  pies  dance  as  Davy  Bowles 
clapped  his  great  hands  together  with  one  of  his 
hearty  salutes. 

"  Oh,  Davy,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  !"  he  cried, 
trembling — "  so  very  glad  !  I  was  afraid  you  had 
been  killed  that  night,  for  I  was  sure  you'd  have 
come  to  see  me  if  you'd  been  alive  anyways  near." 

"But  I  haven't  been  near,  noways,"  replied 
Davy.  "I've  been  off  these  weeks  and  weeks.  I 
was  took  off  that  very  Monday  morning,  almost 
afore  I'd  got  some  breath  back  and  the  taste  of 
your  pies  was  out  of  my  mouth,  to  the  accidents 
on  the  line.  Three  bad  goes  there  was,  and  I  was 
sent  from  one  to  another,  and  got  farther  a-field 
every  one.  I  began  to  think  I  should  never  get 
back  to  my  old  quarters." 

"  I  knew  quite  well  there  must  be  a  something, 
Davy.  I  was  sure  if  you  hadn't  been  killed  you'd 
never  have  forgotten  me  so  out  and  out." 

"  Oh  no,  I  wasn't  killed ;  but  'seems  to  mo 
you've  been  a'most  smashed.  Why,  how  came  it 
about  ?  You  was  in  a  whole  skin  when  I  left  you, 
and  the  fire  was  well  under  afore  we  went  off.  I 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         305 

never  heard  of  the  second  flare-up,  not  a  word, 
till  I  came  back  yesterday." 

Quality  told  him  all  the  story  as  briefly  as  he 
could. 

"  Poor  little  chap !"  cried  Davy  in  tones  of  the 
kindest  commiseration.  "Well,  there's  not  much 
of  you  left ;  it  won't  take  a  deal  to  keep  you.  Any- 
how, you'll  never  want ;  be  sure  of  that.' 

"No,  Davy,  I'm  not  afraid  of  wanting.  I've 
got  a  trifle  saved,  you  know,  and  I  must  live  upon 
that." 

"Very  good;  and  when  you  grow  stout  and 
come  short,  we'll  help  you — that's  the  way,"  said 
Davy. 

"We?"  asked  Quality. 

"  Friends — anybody — everybody,"  said  Davy. 

"  Ah,  Davy,  it's  only  kind  hearts — people  that 
have  got  real  Christian  love  in  them — that  I  can 
hope  to  find  friendly  now,"  said  Quality. 

"  Wouldn't  give  a  toss  for  any  other,"  said  Davy, 
carelessly.  "But  look  here;  I've  got  the  brads 
we  owe  you  for  that  night's  supper.  Some  of  the 
fellows,  hearing  what  had  happened  to  you,  made 
up  a  bag,  and  here  it  is.  I  went  round  to  'em 
last  night,  and  I've  been  all  to-day  finding  out 

where  they'd  stowed  you." 
20 


306  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

So  saying,  he  produced  a  canvas  bag  containing 
the  offerings  of  his  brother  navvies  and  his  own. 

"  Oh,  dear  Davy,  that  is  very  good  of  you — very 
good  indeed !"  said  Quality,  quite  broken  down 
by  the  hearty  kindness  of  his  friend,  "  but  I  can't 
take  it,  for  those  you  worked  for  ought  to  pay, 
I'm  sure ;  and  I  can't  prove  any  debt  now.  My 
books  are  all  burnt — even  my  old  ledger." 

"  No  !  What,  the  old  parchment  chap  that  I've 
so  often  caught  you  spelling  over  ?  He's  gone,  is 
lie  ?  Well,  that's  a  pity,  after  all  the  pains  you 
took  to  flourish  him  up !"  said  Davy. 

But  the  recollection  of  his  loss  thus  brought  up 
prevented  Quality's  answering. 

"As  to  this,"  said  Davy,  laying  the  bag  in  his 
hand,  "  it's  your'n,  and  if  they  pay  us  again — which 
I  hope  they  will — you  shall  have  that  too.  I  don't 
see  things  so  glum  as  you  do.  When  you've  got 
on  a  bit  and  turn  out  of  this  place,  you  may  set 
up  shop  again,  and  you're  sure  to  get  lots  of  cus- 
tomers." 

"  Davy,"  said  Quality,  "  do  you  remember  tell- 
ing me  I  wasn't  right — wasn't  a  Christian,  you 
meant?" 

"No;  did  I?"  said  Davy,  staring. 

u  Yes,  you  did.     Do  you  know  why  ?" 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         307 

"Most  like,  if  I  did,  because  I  thought  so,"  said 
Davy. 

"  You  did,  and  you  thought  right.  Davy,  if 
you'll  believe  me,  I've  been  a  very  wicked  man — I 
have  indeed,"  said  Quality,  earnestly. 

"  You  needn't  be  so  partickler  positive  about  it ; 
I'll  believe  you  quite  easy,"  said  Davy. 

"  But  not  so  much  what  you  know  of  me.  My 
heart,  Davy,  my  heart;"  and  Quality  laid  his 
whole  arm  across  his  breast. 

"  D'ye  know  what  the  parson  told  me  up  yonder 
where  I've  been  working  ?"  said  Davy. 

Quality  looked  attentively  at  him. 

"  Why,  I  began  to  get  very  queer,  and  to  see  no 
way,  do  what  I  would,  to  make  a  good  conscience, 
as  you  used  to  talk  about,  nor  to  get  to  heaven 
without  one.  I  got  a  bit  of  understanding  from 
that  sermon  the  night  you  was  burnt  out,  but  not 
enough  to  carry  me  on  ;  so,  being  fixed  to  have  my 
mind  settled,  I  went  to  the  parson  up  yonder  where 
I've  been.  He  was  just  such  another  as  him  that 
I  fetched  to  poor  Tom,  and  he  went  on  a  long  time 
like  a  book,  and  I  know'd  it  was  all  very  good, 
but  somehow  I  couldn't  take  it  in.  So  I  said  a 
little  about  being  afraid  of  my  sins,  and  how  I'd 
done  so  little  worth  calling  good ;  and  he  stood  up 


308  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

and  he  said,  '  Friend,  I  have  done  with  my  bad 
deeds,  and  I  don't  stand  on  my  good  deeds.  Christ 
has  died,  and  that's  my  salvation  !'  Why,  if  you'll 
believe  me,  Master  Fogg,  the  thing  came  as  clear 
as  daylight  at  a  tunnel's  end.  I  took  it  without 
another  hum  and  ha ;  and  since  then  I've  seen  that 
to  try  to  be  your  own  saviour,  as  he  said,  is  just 
the  same  as  to  build  a  house  without  a  foundation 
or  an  arch  without  a  keystone." 

Quality  looked  greatly  relieved. 

"  I  do  believe  by  your  face  you've  took  it  in, 
just  as  I  did,"  said  Davy. 

"  I  have !  I  think  I  see  it !"  said  Quality. 
"  Saviour,  yes.  It  isn't  our  works — not  our  mer- 
its ;  no,  a  Saviour !" 

"Similar  like  to  a  man  falling  into  the  water  and 
being  pulled  out ;  that  were  how  he  put  it.  Clear, 
warn't  it  ?"  said  Davy. 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Quality,  upon  whose  mind  the 
instructions  of  the  chaplain  in  the  ward  during  his 
confinement  then  returned  with  a  meaning  he  had 
never  attached  to  them. 

"  Christ  died,  the  Just  for  the  unjust,  that  he 
might  bring  us  to  God. 

"  God  so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his  only 
begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  him. 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         309 

should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life,"  he 
slowly  repeated,  as  if  to  assure  himself  of  the 
truth. 

"  Ah,  that's  the  gospel !"  said  Davy,  with  en- 
ergy. "  You  mind,  Master  Fogg,  the  gospel's  the 
only  carrying  bridge.  I  saw  at  once,  when  I  took 
in  them  words,  'Christ  has  died,  and  that's  my 
salvation/  the  reason  of  poor  Tom's  dying  so 
happy;  he  believed  the  gospel.  He  used  to  cry 
and  vex  over  his  sins,  and  say  if  he  lived  how 
different  he'd  be ;  but  when  he  came  to  the  last  he 
was  as  quiet  as  a  lamb,  and  it  rather  puzzled  me 
to  see  him  making  so  sure,  being  as  he'd  been  a 
Jew  all  his  life ;  while  I,  who  hadn't  been  a  Jew, 
though  I  hadn't  been  a  Christian  worth  speaking 
of,  went  a-m oping  and  fearing,  and  daren't  for  my 
life  believe  I  was  safe.  But  then  I  saw  it  all  plain ; 
he  believed  the  gospel,  and  I  didn't — that  was  the 
difference  between  us." 

"But  then,  Davy,"  said  Quality,  "it's  so  easy 
to  say  you  believe." 

"  Ay,  s'pose  it  is  !"  said  Davy. 

"But  it  isn't  easy,  I  think,  to  do  it." 

"  No,  s'pose  it  isn't,"  said  Davy ;  "  not  for  you 
and  me ;  but  directly  I  took  in  that  believing  the 
gospel  was  everything — everything,  Master  Fogg — 


310  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

I  told  the  parson  straight  I  wished  I  believed,  for 
I  was  afeared  I  didii't,  and  with  that  he  showed 
me  this  place  as  I've  kept  my  mark  upon  ever 
since."  As  he  spoke  he  drew  a  small  Bible,  and 
opening  it,  pointed  to  "Ask  and  ye  shall  receive; 
seek  and  ye  shall  find." 

"  Ye-e-s,  that  means  praying,"  said  Quality. 

"That's  it;  and  being  quite  sure  that  nothing 
was  of  any  good  if  I  was  to  come  wrong  at  last,  I 
took  to  praying,  and — you  may  take  this  word  to 
be  as  true  as  a  line — I  received ;  and  you'll  receive 
if  you  ask." 

"  I  will  pray  that  I  may  believe,"  said  Quality, 
with  a  trembling  voice.  "  Thank  you,  Davy,  for 
coming  to  me  in  my  trouble.  If  I  could  only  feel 
quite  sure  of  dying  happy  and  going  to  heaven,  I 
shouldn't  mind  all  I've  gone  through." 

"  That  shows  you're  nigh  the  end  of  the  cutting 
and  coming  into  the  light,"  said  Davy,  cheerily; 
"  but  you  mustn't  stay  here  too  long ;  it's  a  sharp 
wind,  though  the  sun  shines.  Come  in ;  I'll  stop 
with  you  a  bit  longer." 

As  gently  as  a  nurse  with  an  infant,  Davy  helped 
him  to  rise  and  walk  toward  the  house,  and  the 
patients  stood  gazing  with  interest  at  the  huge, 
rough  navvy  whom  they  had  seen  with  the  open 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         311 

Bible  in  his  hand  now  supporting  the  tottering 
steps  and  dwindled  form  of  his  sorrowful  friend. 

Davy  made  many  inquiries  into  the  circumstances 
of  the  fire,  and  promised  to  find  out  more  particu- 
larly what  state  the  ruins  were  in  and  what  was 
being  done. 

"About  Mr.  Luggett,  Davy?  He  was  killed, 
wasn't  he?"  asked  Quality. 

"Can't  say,"  said  Davy;  "he  was  bad  hurt, 
and  they  took  him  to  some  infirmary  somewhere." 

"  Was  that  what  you  meant  by  better  quarters  ?" 
inquired  Quality. 

"Ay,  sure,  if  I  said  aught  about  'em,"  said 
Davy. 

"I  thought  you  meant  he  was  gone  to  heaven," 
said  Quality. 

"Him?— old  Luggett?"  said  Davy;  "no,  I 
never  took  upon  myself  to  settle  anybody  there, 
and  I  shouldn't  have  begun  with  him,"  said  Davy. 
"  Why,  man,  he  was  drinking  at  the  l  Tuns'  when 
the  fire  broke  out,  and  wasn't  sober  enough  to  keep 
his  legs,  and  that  was  how  he  fell  into  the  fire 
getting  out.  Drunk  of  a  Sunday  in  service-time ! 
No,  I  warn'fc  like  to  expect  him  to  get  to  heaven 
by  that  road,  even  when  I  know'd  nothing  much 
about  the  matter." 


312  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

"And  is  he  dead?"  asked  Quality. 

"  Don't  know,"  said  Davy ;  "  I  never  concerned 
myself  about  anybody  but  you,  and  directly  I  found 
out  how  you  was  fixed  I  got  the  pie  money  and 
come  here;  and  now  I  must  go,  and  if  you've  got 
any  'ploy  for  me  I'll  do  it  if  I  can ;  I  sha'n't  be 
very  handy  at  work  this  day  or  two." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  Davy,"  said  Quality,  grate- 
fully ;  "  how  good  you  are  to  me !" 

Davy  smiled  kindly  on  him  and  stood  waiting 
for  commissions. 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  know  if  there's  any  news 
of  the  safe,"  said  Quality,  "  and  whether  anything 
is  saved  —  anything.  And  would  you  find  out 
whether  Mr.  Luggett  is  —  better?  I  hope,  poor 
man,  he  is  not  dead,  I'm  sure  I  do.  I'm  afraid 
I've  been  very  uncharitable  and  unfeeling  in  my 
thoughts  of  him.  Oh,  Davy,  I  should  shock  you 
if  I  told  you  of  all  the  bad  thoughts  I've  been 
guilty  of!" 

"Very  like;  but  there's  no  partickler  good  in 
confessing  them  to  me,  so  you  might  leave  that  be. 
That's  where  to  confess,"  he  said,  pointing  upward. 

Quality  was  impressed  with  the  truth  that  he 
had  as  yet  no  communion  there ;  he  had  never 
confessed  nor  prayed,  nor  praised  nor  mourned,  to 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         313 

One  who  he  believed  could  hear  him  or  answer  or 
help  him.  Heaven  was  but  an  empty  name  to 
him ;  he  had  no  friend  there,  for  he  did  not  know 
the  Lord  Jesus. 

"Anything  more?"  said  Davy,  seeing  that  his 
friend  had  got  into  a  muse. 

"  I  should  have  liked  to  know  about  little  Tom 
Grant,  but  they've  moved  from  Harp  court,  and  I 
don't  know  where  they  have  gone." 

"All  right;  I'll  see  if  they'll  answer  to  call," 
said  Davy ;  "  and  now  you  needn't  be  nice  about 
spending  that — there's  more  where  it  comes  from ; 
wages  is  good,  because  work's  none  of  the  lightest, 
so  we're  all  afloat.  Oh  don't  go  to  pull  a  face" — 
seeing  that  Quality  was  ready  to  cry,  as  if  over- 
come. "  When  you're  on  your  legs  again  and  get 
into  another  shop,  we'll  take  it  out  in  pies;  so  the 
sooner  you  pull  on  the  better  for  us." 

Everything  painful  and  pleasant  had  shown 
Quality  of  late  things  to  humble  him ;  the  visit  of 
Davy  had  more  powerfully  than  ever  done  so. 
This  rough,  uncultivated  navvy,  who  had  always 
been  looked  upon  by  him  as  one  to  teach  and 
preach  to — as  one  that,  impressed  with  his  superior 
wisdom  and  excellence,  looked  up  to  him  with  def- 
erence and  respect — had  come  to  him  to  bring 


314  RIC11ES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

light,  to  show  him  the  depths  of  his  ignorance  and 
unworthiness.  And  then  his  generosity,  bringing 
the  wages  of  such  hazardous  work  to  him  without 
stint  or  grudge ! 

"  He  was  always  a  generous  fellow,  but  I  never 
saw  such  kindness  in  him  before,"  he  said  to  him- 
self as  he  counted  out  the  contents  of  the  bag. 


CHAPTEE    VI. 

QUALITY  at  length  received  his  dismissal  from 
the  hospital,  which  he  quitted  with  feelings  of 
gratitude  to  all  the  officers  and  attendants.  The 
chaplain  had  found  him,  soon  after  David's  visit, 
humble,  calm,  ready  to  receive  comfort,  and  very 
thankful  for  it.  Indeed,  the  smile  with  which  he 
now  silently  welcomed  him,  and  the  restful  look  on 
his  face,  instead  of  that  anxious,  agitated  or  woe- 
begone and  despairing  aspect  he  had  hitherto  worn, 
was  striking  to  all.  The  medical  men  he  could 
not  thank  enough  for  their  skill  and  care,  and  the 
nurses,  so  often  ill  requited  by  the  peevish  com- 
plaints of  ungrateful  patients,  he  tried  to  make 
sensible  of  his  gratitude  by  spending  a  good  por- 
tion of  his  bag  in  farewell  gifts  to  them,  assuring 
them  that  if  ever  he  was  so  happy  as  to  get  into 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         315 

business  again,  there  was  not  one  whom  he  would 
not  heartily  welcome  to  the  best  he  had  to  bestow. 
The  skill  and  care  he  had  been  attended  with  had 
restored  him  not  only  to  health,  but  to  a  whole 
frame.  His  injured  limbs  had  regained  their 
power,  and  in  a  little  time  there  seemed  no  reason 
why  he  should  not  invest  his  capital  and  start 
afresh  in  business. 

Davy  had  brought  him  no  news  of  little  Tom. 
Mr.  Winks,  the  pawnbroker,  where  Mrs.  Grant 
had  lodged  in  Harp  court,  had  been  grievously 
injured  by  the  fire,  being  one  of  the  "  snug  party" 
to  which  Mr.  Luggett  had  invited  Quality,  and 
the  place  was  in  confusion.  Mrs.  Winks  knew  no 
more  than  that  a  respectable  man  had  taken  the 
family  away,  she  had  no  idea  where.  Quality 
was  afraid  poor  Tom  must  have  caught  cold  again 
on  the  day  he  came  to  see  him,  and  was  now  per- 
haps on  a  dying  bed,  if  not  dead. 

Davy  had  discovered  that  Mr.  Luggett  had  sur- 
vived his  injuries,  but  was  a  complete  wreck  to 
look  at.  He  had  been  moved  from  the  infirmary 
to  his  own  house,  which  stood  whole  though  some- 
what blemished  between  the  ruins  of  the  Three 
Tuns  and  the  eating-house.  Further  than  these 
facts  he  had  nothing  to  tell  him,  except,  in  ad- 


316  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

dition,  that  nothing  had  been  seen  of  the  safe,  but 
that  the  oak  table,  a  beam  having  fallen  across  it, 
had  been  dug  out  of  the  ruins  entire. 

"Oh  dear!  if  I  had  but  left  my  ledger  alone 
that  morning  I  should  have  it  now,"  thought 
Quality,  with  a  sigh,  when  he  heard  it. 

But  Davy  would  not  hear  a  word  of  regret  about 
the  safe.  "  Get  somebody  to  go  your  rounds.  All 
the  honest  people  will  pay,  and  you  must  let  the 
rogues  go.  Where's  the  sense  of  throwing  comfort 
after  'em  ?" 

This  philosophy  was  the  more  telling  because 
Quality  knew  Davy  only  recommended  what  he 
would  assuredly  put  in  practice  himself,  and  he 
submitted  and  hoped  the  best.  In  the  little  lodg- 
ing which  he  took  till  his  strength  had  quite  re- 
turned and  his  affairs  were  sufficiently  arranged  for 
him  to  think  of  settling  again,  Davy  came  to  him 
to  cheer  him  up  and  advise  with  him,  though  it 
must  be  owned  his  advice  was  not  always  so  dis- 
creet as  to  make  Quality  take  it.  But  work  far 
off  called  Davy  away.  The  night  before  he  started 
he  brought  a  small  sum,  what  he  had  spared  from 
his  own  pay,  saying  he  hoped  Quality  would  find 
it  enough  to  go  upon  till  he  got  into  business,  as  it 
would  be  best  not  to  meddle  with  the  bank  lot. 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         317 

That  he  might  speedily  get  fresh  intelligence, 
Quality  had  taken  a  room  close  to  Swan  lane.  It 
was  but  a  few  minutes'  walk  to  the  ruins ;  to  these 
he  resorted  most  days,  still  using  for  caution's  sake 
a  stick  and  a  crutch.  A  melancholy  sight  it  was 
to  the  most  resigned,  enough  to  upset  any  ordinary 
philosophy.  The  neighbouring  houses  on  each  side 
of  Quality's  had  been  partially  pulled  down  to  stop 
the  progress  of  the  fire ;  a  temporary  barrier  had 
been  raised  before  all  to  keep  off  intruders.  Such 
as  had  permission  from  the  authorities  were  allowed 
to  enter,  and  it  was  Quality's  mournful  privilege  to 
have  a  right  to  this.  Much  had  been  cleared  off, 
but  heaps  still  lay  there,  and  he  moved  from  heap 
to  heap  where  it  was  not  dangerous,  leaning  on  his 
crutch  and  poking  with  his  stick,  not  with  much 
hope,  but  with  a  languid,  wistful  thought  that  he 
might  turn  up  his  safe. 

He  had  sent  an  advertisement  to  the  paper,  by 
the  advice  of  the  chaplain  in  the  hospital,  begging 
any  who  were  indebted  to  him  to  discharge  their 
debts  as  speedily  as  convenient,  as  his  recent  losses 
had  made  such  a  step  very  necessary  to  him.  But 
no  one  had  as  yet  found  it  "  convenient,"  and  he 
was  afraid  it  had  become  known  that  his  books 
were  destroyed,  in  which  case  he  was  entirely  at 


318  RICHES  WITHOUT   WINGS. 

the  mercy  of  his  customers,  who  had  but  to  burn 
their  bills  and  he  could  never  renew  them.  He 
was  standing  sadly  enough  by  the  heap  where,  as 
well  as  he  could  judge,  his  safe  must  have  fallen, 
when  he  noticed  a  man  of  pleasant  appearance  who 
seemed  to  have  been  also  inspecting  them. 

This  stranger  advanced  toward  him  with  a  kind 
look  and  said,  "  From  your  appearance  I  fancy  you 
were  one  of  the  sufferers  in  this  disaster?" 

"  It  is  true,  sir.     This  was  where  my  dwelling  - 
stood,  in  which  I  lived  between  thirty  and  forty 
years,"  said  Quality,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Is  your  name  Fogg,  then  ?"  asked  the  stranger. 

"  It  is,  sir ;  Quality  Fogg,  at  your  service,"  said 
Quality,  courteously. 

"  I'm  very  glad  I  happened  to  come,  then,"  said 
the  stranger.  "  I  know  your  name  well,  and  you 
know  mine.  My  name  is  Grant." 

"Oh,  little  Tommy's  uncle?"  cried  Quality. 

"  The  same,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  How  is  the  dear  child  ?"  said  Quality. 

"  Rejoicing  in  his  Saviour's  presence,"  said  Mr. 
Grant. 

"  Gone !  Oh,  I  sha'n't  see  him  again !"  said 
Quality,  mournfully. 

"  He  thought  otherwise,"  said  Mr.  Grant.    "  He 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         319 

was  confident  that  he  should  meet  you  in  a  city 
that  hath  foundations.  He  often  spoke  of  you.  I 
was  grieved  that  my  business  prevented  me  from 
visiting  you,  and  his  mother  could  not  leave  him. 
He  became  very  ill  from  cold  the  day  he  saw  you, 
and  survived  not  many  weeks." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  he's  in  heaven,  indeed  I  am. 
He  was  fitter  for  it  than  for  this  world,"  said 
Quality,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Nay,  I  think  those  who  are  fittest  for  heaven 
are  the  fittest  to  remain  on  earth,  if  the  Lord  sees 
fit  to  keep  them  here,"  said  Mr.  Grant.  "  Don't 
you  know  they  are  the  salt  that  keeps  it  from  cor- 
ruption ?  What  should  we  do  without  them  ?  But 
with  regard  to  him,  long  struggling  with  thoughts 
not  common  to  his  years,  coupled  with  sorrow  and 
want,  overbore  his  strength,  for  his  frame  was  not 
one  to  stand  the  ravages  made  by  mind  and  body 
together." 

Quality  did  not  answer.  There  was  in  his  heart 
a  strange  yearning  after  the  child,  a  union  with 
him,  that  made  him  feel  as  if  part  of  himself  were 
in  the  unseen  world,  and  drew  him  toward  it. 

"  When  we  know  the  whole  of  things  we  shall 
see  that  we  have  been  apt  to  call  evil  good  and 
good  evil,"  said  Mr.  Grant.  "  He  did  not  suffer 


320  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

without  a  gracious  reason  for  it;  and  in  his  brief 
life  and  in  his  death  he  bore  a  witness  to  his  Mas- 
ter that  will  not  soon  nor  easily  be  forgotten.  It 
is  well  for  us  he  lived ;  it  is  well  for  him  he  lived 
no  longer,  for  short  as  his  labours  were  he  is  happy 
in  resting  from  them." 

Quality  was  rather  awed  by  the  superior  man- 
ner and  address  of  Mr.  Grant,  and  began,  as  the 
latter  went  on  to  expatiate  on  the  subject,  to  won- 
der what  he  was. 

"A  religious  teacher  of  some  sort  he  must  be," 
he  thought;  "and  a  great  gift  of  speaking  he 
seems  to  have." 

By  degrees  he  learnt  that  Mr.  Grant  had  been 
the  master  of  a  large  school  in  a  settlement  in 
America,  where  he  had  worked  hard  to  sow  the 
seed  of  eternal  life  in  the  hearts  of  the  young.  In 
this  work  he  had  eminently  succeeded,  when  he 
discovered,  by  means  of  some  emigrants  who  had 
known  his  brother,  that  he  was  dead,  leaving  his 
widow  in  very  necessitous  circumstances.  He  im- 
mediately resigned  his  post  for  a  time  into  other 
hands,  and  returned  to  England  with  the  intention 
of  inducing  the  widow  to  emigrate  with  her  chil- 
dren, promising  in  that  case  to  devote  all  his  means 
to  their  support  and  advancement  in  life.  He  did 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         321 

not  at  that  time  tell  all  this  to  Quality,  but  the 
fact  of  his  calling  having  transpired,  the  latter  was 
filled  with  profound  respect. 

"But  now,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  having  ac- 
companied Quality  to  his  lodgings,  "  what  do  you 
mean  to  do  ?  Have  you  fixed  on  future  plans  ?  Is 
there  anything  I  can  do  to  help  you  ?" 

Quality  with  readiness  told  him  all  his  circum- 
stances, especially  the  loss  of  the  old  ledger. 

"  That,"  said  Mr.  Grant,  "  is  bad.  But  let  me 
have  a  list  of  your  chief  creditors  j  I  will  employ 
some  one  to  collect  from  them  before  it  becomes 
certainly  known  you  have  no  check  upon  them." 

Then  he  took  a  book  from  his  pocket,  set  down 
the  names  and  addresses  with  the  greatest  pre- 
cision, and  promised  before  long  to  call  on  him 
again  with  the  results. 

"  Now,  doesn't  it  seem  as  if  I  was  being  helped 
from  above?"  thought  Quality  when  he  was  gone. 
"  To  be  sure  I  have  lost  a  great  deal — a  great  deal ; 
but  when  I  think  it  over,  I'm  sure  I  have  found 
more.  Yes,  I  have,  for  'what  shall  a  man  give  in  ex- 
change for  his  soul  ?'  as  it  says  in  the  Bible  (and  I 
take  it  to  mean,  what  is  there  that  is  too  great  a 
price  to  pay  for  his  soul  ?).  What's  the  use  of  all 
lie  world  to  a  dying  man  ? — and  I'm  as  good  as  a 
21 


322  RICHES    WITHOUT  WINGS. 

dying  man,  though  I  may  live  a  bit  longer.  So  if 
my  soul  is  the  chief  thing,  and  that  is  provided  for, 
and  I  know  it,  I  may  be  easy  about  the  rest — quite 
easy — especially  as  I  see  that  I  am  being  helped 
and  comforted.  Doesn't  this  good  man  help  me  for 
love's  sake — love  to  God,  and  love  to  that  dear 
child? — and  isn't  it  the  kindness  and  love  of  God 
that  put  it  into  his  heart?  Ay,  that  it  is.  For 
ray  part,  I  believe  it's  true ;  they  that  fear  the  Lord 
shall  want  no  manner  of  thing  that  is  good,  as  I 
read  this  very  day.  I've  read  that  Psalm  a  time 
or  two  before,  but  never  been  a  bit  the  better  for 
it!" 

Leaning  on  the  heavy  old  table  the  drawer  of 
which  now  contained  only  his  Bible,  he  thought  of 
the  past,  and  wondered  how  he  could  have  fancied 
himself  happy  when  he  had  no  hope  beyond  the 
grave.  He  remembered  the  Sundays  he  had 
passed,  and  the  Sunday  of  the  fire  especially  came 
before  him. 

"So  Mr.  Luggett  is  a  wreck.  Poor  man  !  it's  a 
sad  change  for  him,  especially  if  he  is  not  resigned 
to  it.  To  be  sure  he  has  plenty,  for  he  was  very 
rich,  and  none  of  his  property  was  much  injured. 
Strange,  very,  he  should  be  spared.  Well,  noth- 
'ng  is  in  vain;  all  is  wisely  sent  and  kindly  meant 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         323 

— I  believe  that.  So  no  doubt  it  is  in  this  case, 
though  it's  harder  for  me  to  see  it  than  for  Mr. 
Luggett." 

The  picture  of  Mr.  Luggett  rose  before  him, 
sitting  in  a  snug  room  in  a  comfortable  easy-chair, 
a  good  nurse  and  a  well-supplied  cupboard  to  soothe 
his  sufferings  and  help  forward  his  cure.  No 
cares  about  to-morrow  to  hinder  him  from  sleep- 
ing ;  no  wondering  what  he  should  do  for  his 
maintenance  to  fever  and  fret  him  and  keep  him 
back!  Insensibly  he  turned  from  pitying  Mr. 
Luggett  to  thinking  his  situation  might  have  been 
worse,  that  it  had  great  alleviations,  that  many 
had  more  to  complain  of,  that,  after  all,  the  pinch- 
ings  of  want  and  the  fears  of  penury  were  a  heavy 
balance  against  competence  and  the  comforts  of 
life ;  that,  in  short,  Mr.  Luggett  was  in  one  light 
a  fortunate  man,  in  whose  shoes  few  would  object 
to  stand  (looking  forward  to  a  speedy  recovery,  of 
course).  Finally,  he  could  not  but  consider  that  he 
was  to  be  envied  ! 

Yes,  so  earthly  is  the  heart,  so  weak  the  flesh, 
however  willing  the  spirit,  that  Quality,  looking 
round  him  at  his  bare  little  room,  his  scant  fire 
and  his  supper  of  thin  gruel  of  his  own  preparing 
—at  the  difficulties  before  him  and  the  troubles 


324  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

he  had  gone  through — felt  as  if  all  the  sunshine 
of  faith  had  departed,  and  that  he  was  a  forlorn, 
deserted  creature,  hardly  dealt  with  in  comparison 
with  bad  Mr.  Luggett.  He  forgot  all  his  mercies, 
and  his  heart  swelled  and  his  eyes  filled,  and  he 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  vented  his  grief  in 
gentle  but  most  melancholy  moans. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

MR.  GRANT  had  undertaken  no  easy  matter  in 
the  recovering  of  Quality's  debts.  The  commu- 
nity among  whom  his  customers  were  to  be  found 
were  not  of  the  most  desirable  to  trust ;  they  were 
chiefly  people  who  allowed  "  To-morrow "  to  take 
care  of  itself,  and  spent  everything  "  To-day."  It 
had  ever  been  quite  contrary  to  Quality's  judg- 
ment to  put  himself  in  the  predicament  of  "To- 
morrow ;"  but  he  could  not  bear  to  turn  away  a 
customer,  and  sometimes  he  found  his  advantage 
in  being  paid  in  kind,  getting  a  pair  of  shoes,  for 
instance,  worth  twice  as  much  if  he  had  had  to 
buy  them  as  the  tripe  and  trotters  for  which  they 
were  bartered.  Besides,  he  valued  his  name  for 
good-nature ;  at  that  time  it  made  a  considerable 
item  in  his  good-works'  list. 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         325 

But  he  had  some  customers  who  always  paid, 
and  paid  in  money,  substantial  people  by  com- 
parison, who,  having  saved  enough  to  have  some- 
thing to  lose,  took  care  not  to  lose  it,  but  to  make 
it  more,  and  these  Mr.  Grant  himself  undertook 
to  attend  to.  Among  them,  at  the  head  of  them 
nearly,  was  Mrs.  Sarah  Tucker. 

She  had  for  many  years  kept  a  shop  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  same  kind  as  Quality's,  only  of  a 
higher  order.  She  had  a  refreshment-room  in 
which  company  might  dine,  with  the  use  of  plates 
and  knives  and  forks,  and  very  profitable  she  had 
found  it,  and  her  dealings  with  Quality  were  upon 
occasions  of  an  overflow  of  company  forcing  her 
to  produce  without  notice  more  provision  than  she 
had  at  hand.  She  had  found  him  very  useful  in. 
this  way,  and  approved  of  his  goods  and  his  prices/ 
only  she  had  a  faculty  of  forgetting  what  she  had 
had,  and  therefore  of  thinking  he  remembered  too 
much. 

Mr.  Grant  found  her  in  her  shop,  and  stating 
that  he  had  business,  requested  an  interview.  Mrs. 
Sarah  looked  at  him ;  he  had  not  the  promising  ap- 
pearance of  a  customer;  she  had  judged  so  from 
the  first  glimpse  of  him.  Taxes?  or  a  traveler 
with  samples  of  goods  ?  which  line  did  he  belong 


326  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

to?  She  led  the  way  to  the  parlour,  where  the 
table  was  spread  for  company. 

Mr.  Grant  in  a  few  words  asked  for  the  dis- 
charge of  Quality's  bill. 

"  Old  Fogg !  Dear  me !  we  could  have  done  that 
little  business  in  the  shop !"  said  Mrs.  Sarah. 

"  Very  good ;  shall  we  return  there  ?  as  you  say, 
it  is  but  a  short  business,"  said  Mr.  Grant. 

Mrs.  Sarah  led  the  way  back,  and  begging  Mr. 
Grant  to  be  seated,  asked  if  he  had  the  account 
with  him. 

"•You  have  that,"  he  answered. 

"Somewhere,  I  believe  it  is,  but  it  would  be 
quicker  if  you  would  show  me  a  copy,"  said  Mrs. 
Sarah. 

"I  have  no  copy  with  me;  I  can  wait  till  you 
have  found  it,  though  time  is  precious,"  said  Mr. 
Grant,  seating  himself  by  the  counter. 

"  That's  provoking  now,"  said  Mrs.  Sarah ;  "  I 
might  hunt  twenty  places  and  never  turn  it  up." 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  the  amount,  and  I'll  give 
you  a  receipt;  that  will  do,"  said  Mr.  Grant, 
calmly. 

"  Do  for  old  Fogg,  sir,  but  not  for  me,"  said 
Mrs.  Sarah,  tartly;  "I  don't  know  about  that  bill, 
sir ;  I  should  like  to  see  Fogg  about  it." 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         327 

"You  would  be  sorry  to  see  him,  poor  man; 
lie  is  still  very  weak,  and  the  money  is  much 
wanted." 

"Poor  Fogg!  an  innocent  little  man  and  well 
deserving  is  Fogg,  but  given  to  a  bad  memory 
sometimes— all  without  a  meaning,  only  mistakes 
— makes  mistakes,"  said  Mrs.  Sarah. 

"  Any  mistakes  in  your  bill  ?"  asked  Mr.  Grant. 

"  I've  got  my  doubts  about  several  things — sev- 
eral ;  as  to  that  chine  of  pork  it  starts  with,  I  be- 
lieve I  never  had  it,"  said  Mrs.  Sarah. 

"  Then  you  are  prepared  to  contest  the  bill,  and 
we  shall  have  to  prove  it.  Pity !  law  is  expensive," 
said  Mr.  Grant. 

"  Law !  law  between  me  and  Fogg !  likely 
that !"  said  Mrs.  Sarah  ;  "  only  I  like  fair  dealing. 
Fair  play's  a  jewel,  that's  what  I  say ;"  and  evi- 
dently, by  the  twinkle  of  her  little  black  eyes,  she 
thought  it  worth  saying. 

"  Fair  play  is  a  jewel — a  jewel,"  repeated  Mr. 
Grant,  thoughtfully.  "That's  true;  a  jewel  will 
stand  the  fire :  all  truth  is  of  the  jewel  kind." 

Mrs.  Sarah  stared  at  this  holding  up  to  view  her 
favourite  aphorism  with  such  grave  accompani- 
ments. 

"  I  trust  you  mean  to  deal  fairly  by  the  poor 


328  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

man,  and  to  show  that  you  prize  this  jewel,"  said 
Mr.  Grant. 

Now  Mrs.  Sarah's  back  was  up ;  what  did  the 
man  mean  by  hoping  she  meant  to  deal  fairly  by 
the  poor  man  ?  Was  there  any  doubt  that  she 
would  ? 

She  replied  with  sharp  words  and  sundry  little 
jerks  and  tosses  of  her  head  that  sent  her  shiny 
black  curls  shaking  and  trembling  with  vehemence. 

Mr.  Grant  listened  with  perfect  composure,  and 
replied  that  he  was  quite  glad  to  hear  her  speak  in 
such  terms  of  the  probity  and  good  faith  to  which 
she  could  lay  claim,  concluding  with  a  request  for 
proof  of  the  same  in  the  payment  of  the  bill. 

Mrs.  Sarah  answered  in  a  huffy  tone  that  she 
would  pay  her  bill  to  Fogg,  and  to  nobody  else. 

"  I'm  glad  that  you  Avill,"  said  Mr.  Grant,  "  for 
the  sight  of  the  poor  man  Avill  touch  your  heart 
with  pity,  and  I'm  sure  you  will  not  keep  him  long 
without  his  own." 

Mi's.  Sarah  had  no  mind  to  listen  to  any  sentiment 
or  opinion  of  Mr.  Grant's,  and  made  no  answer. 

"  But  you  must  have  his  address,  poor  man  !" 
said  Mr.  Grant ;  "  kindly  lend  me  pen  and  ink, 
and  I'll  write  it  down." 

Mrs.  Sarah  complied,  but  not  "kindly,"  though 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         329 

the  immovable  temper  of  the  good  man  almost 
disarmed  her. 

"  There !"  said  Mr.  Grant,  handing  it  to  her ; 
"  it's  a  poor  place,  and  he  is  poorly  off,  and  his 
friends  who  would  help  him  are  too  poor  to  do  it 
effectually ;  but  he  has  great  consolation — the  only 
true  consolation — through  all  his  sufferings,  and 
believes  that  his  trials  will  bring  forth  the  peace- 
able fruits  of  righteousness." 

"  You  are  a  friend  of  his,  then  ?"  demanded 
Mrs.  Sarah,  with  less  asperity. 

"  I  would  gladly  be  a  useful  one,"  said  Mr. 
Grant,  "  but  at  present  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  do 
more  than  spend  a  little  time  and  trouble  on  him  ; 
these  I  am  glad  to  give." 

"Then  you  are  collecting  for  nothing?"  de- 
manded Mrs.  Sarah. 

"  Nay,  for  the  highest  hopes  of  payment.  Have 
you  never  read  that  he  who  gives  to  a  disciple  a 
cup  of  cold  water  shall  in  no  wise  lose  his  re- 
ward?" 

"Ah,"  said  Mrs.  Tucker,  who  did  not  choose  to 
venture  in  strange  waters,  "but  I  mean  you  are 
not  to  be  paid  for  the  job  by  Fogg  ?" 

Mr.  Grant  shook  his  head  with  a  grave  smile. 

"  Well,  that's  good-natured,  I  must  say,"  said 


330  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

Mrs.  Sarah;  "you  must  excuse  me  being  a  little 
sharp  with  you,  but  I  thought  you  was  a-twitting 
me  about  being  fair." 

Mr.  Grant  declared  that  he  freely  excused  her ; 
he  was  leaving  the  shop  when  Mrs.  Sarah  asked 
him  some  further  particulars  about  Quality,  to 
which  she  listened  with  interest,  repeatedly  saying 
at  intervals,  "  Poor  old  Fogg !  poor  old  Fogg  !" 

"  Well,  sir,  and  how,  if  I  may  ask,  did  you  first 
come  to  know  him  ?"  she  said. 

Mr.  Grant  told  the  story  of  his  sending  the  il-la- 
mode  to  Tommy,  and  of  the  child's  love  for  him. 

"Well,  that  was  very  pretty,  very  pretty  in- 
deed," said  Mrs.  Sarah ;  "  and  his  a-la-mode  was 
very  good,  too.  I've  often  sent  for  it  myself  when 
I  wanted  a  dish  at  hand.  So  he  sent  it  to  the  sick 
little  boy?  Now  that  was  kind  of  him,  for  he  had 
hard  work  to  get  on  and  save  a  penny,  I  know. 
Well,  sir,  if  you  don't  mind  stopping  while  I'm 
rummaging  a  little,  I'll  maybe  find  the  bill,  and 
then  I'll  pay  it.  I  dare  say  it's  all  right ;  anyhow, 
he  shall  have  the  money,  but  I'll  come  and  see 
him ;  be  sure  I'll  give  him  a  call,  and  take  him 
some  a-la-mode  too,  see  if  I  don't !" 

After  a  little  rummaging,  Mrs.  Sarah  found  the 
bill,  and  paid  it  every  penny,  though  she  made  a 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD   LEDGER.         331 

mark  against  the  chine  and  one  or  two  other  arti- 
cles on  which  she  maintained  she  was  in  want  of 
satisfaction,  that  she  might  talk  them  over  with 
Quality  when  he  got  better. 

Mr.  Grant  folded  the  money  in  paper  and  put  it 
in  his  purse,  looking  as  he  did  so  at  the  animated 
Mrs.  Sarah,  whose  face  and  voice  had  exchanged 
any  appearance  of  wrath  for  that  of  sympathy  and 
good  will. 

"  You  will  go  and  see  him  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  will !"  she  said,  slapping  the  counter. 

"  And  take  him  a  present  ?" 

"  I  will.     I  said  it,  and  I  will,"  she  answered. 

"  Don't  lose  sight  of  the  reward,"  he  said. 

She  fixed  her  black  eyes  on  him,  but  said 
nothing. 

"'Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the 
least  of  these,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me.'  Do  it 
for  his  sake,  and  assuredly  you  shall  be  well  re- 
warded, but  do  it  only  for  your  friend's  sake  and 
to  please  your  feelings,  and  verily  you  have  your 
reward." 

This  was  strange  talking  in  Mrs.  Sarah's  ears ; 
she  was  not  offended  by  it,  but  she  did  not  respond 
to  it.  She  followed  the  schoolmaster  with  her  eyes 
down  the  street,  and  said  to  herself,  "He's  a 


332  RICHES  WITHOUT   WINGS. 

preacher  of  some  sort,  I'll  be  bound.  Well,  he's  a 
good  sort  of  man,  and  I  don't  mind  hearing  good 
people  talk  so.  Poor  old  Fogg !  If  I  don't  have 
too  much  company  for  Betsy  to  manage  this  even- 
ing, I'll  go  and  see  him,  that  I  will ;"  and  she 
looked  out  a  jar  in  which  to  carry  her  offering  of 
"a-la-mode,"  the  question  involuntarily  rising  in 
her  mind  whether  she  should  have  a  reward  for  it — • 
a  question  she  had  never  asked  herself  before,  and 
which  she  could  by  no  means  answer  now. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE  days  varied  but  little  with  Quality.  When 
the  wind  was  cold  he  dared  not  go  out,  for  he  was 
not  strong  enough  to  resist  it.  All  his  clothing 
had  been  burnt;  he  had  only  a  few  things  which 
his  scanty  purse  had  enabled  him  to  buy.  Besides, 
his  room  was  at  the  top  of  the  house ;  he  was  yet  a 
little  lame  and  he  was  very  weak ;  so  when  the  air 
that  came  freely  into  his  little  room  through  the 
infirmities  of  door  and  window  was  keen  and  pier- 
cing, he  kept  close  to  his  poor  fire  and  tried  to 
comfort  himself  by  reading. 

A  week  had  passed  since  he  had  seen  Mr.  Grant, 
Davy  was  still  working  at  a  distance,  and  no  one 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         333 

had  been  to  break  the  tedium  of  his  loneliness. 
He  had  tried  to  pray — tried  very  hard — but  it 
seemed  to  him  the  more  he  tried  the  less  he  could 
do  it.  When  he  began  to  ask  for  faith,  the  loss  he 
had  sustained,  or  his  anxieties  for  the  future,  or 
something  connected  with  these,  would  come  into 
his  thoughts  and  put  all  else  to  flight.  He  seemed 
to  himself  to  be  just  the  same  as  when  Davy  had 
found  him  with  sinking  heart  at  the  hospital ;  in- 
deed, he  thought,  "  I  can  no  more  pray  now  than  I 
could  when  I  was  altogether  wrong,  when  I  never 
really  tried  to  pray." 

"  I  will  try  and  go  out,"  he  thought ;  "  I  believe 
the  longer  I  sit  here,  the  worse  I  get." 

He  took  his  crutch  and  his  stick  and  got  down 
stairs,  and  stood  at  the  street  door,  but  it  was  so 
cold  he  dared  not  venture,  and  he  was  turning  in 
with  a  disconsolate  face  when  a  stout  little  woman 
with  a  huge  plaid  shawl,  a  bonnet  that  threatened 
to  break  down  with  flowers,  a  bright,  round  face, 
sharp  eyes  and  black  curls,  came  posting  down  the 
street  with  a  jar  under  her  shawl. 

It  was  Mrs.  Tucker,  Quality  was  sure  it  was, 
and  he  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  being  looked 
upon  by  her  with  the  contempt  he  felt  belonging  to 
his  present  circumstances.  He  turned  round  to  the 


334  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

door,  hoping  she  had  not  discovered  him  or  did  not 
know  him.  But  those  little  eyes  were  too  quick 
for  his  feeble  haste. 

"Fogg!  Fogg! — why,  Fogg!"  she  called  out, 
finishing  the  distance  with  a  brisk  little  run, 
"you're  never  the  man  to  run  away  from  an  old 
friend,  are  you  ?" 

Her  action  and  tone  of  voice  showed  Quality 
he  had  nothing  to  fear.  He  stood  shivering  till 
she  came,  with  something  of  his  old  smile  on  his 
face. 

"  "Well,  you  are  gone  to  ravellings !"  she  ex- 
claimed. "I  wouldn't  have  believed  it;  come  in, 
it's  too  cold  for  you  to  be  out,  I'm  sure.  Where's 
your  lodging  ?  Up  stairs  ?  Get  up  then  ;  the  sooner 
we're  by  the  fire,  the  better ;  this  wind's  colder  than 
Christmas." 

Quality  hobbled  up  before  her  as  fast  as  he  could, 
but  she  danced  impatiently  on  each  stair  behind 
him,  and  at  last  they  landed  in  his  room. 

"  Oh  dear !  what  a  dunjin  of  a  hole !"  she  ex- 
claimed ;  "  sure,  you  might  get  a  better  place  than 
this !" 

Quality,  when  he  had  got  his  breath,  told  her  of 
his  hopes  of  starting  again  in  business,  and  how  he 
sa\ed  all  he  could  on  account  of  it. 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         335 

"  Well,  that's  something,  but  don't  kill  yourself 
in  the  care  you're  taking  of  what  will  be  of  no  use 
to  you  then,"  said  Mrs.  Sarah,  producing  the  it-la- 
mode.  "  Come,  get  a  cup  and  have  a  taste  of  this, 
it  will  hearten  you  up,  just  as  it  did  the  little  boy 
you  sent  it  to." 

Quality's  eyes  glistened ;  he  had  not  seen  such 
fare  for  a  long  time,  but  the  reminder  of  his  gift  to 
little  Tommy  made  his  heart  beat.  This  great  jar, 
full  of  the  prime  article,  how  different  from  the 
watered  portion  he  had  given  ! 

Mrs.  Sarah  would  not  let  him  talk  till  he  had 
eaten  some,  and  then  began  to  enter  into  a  long 
discussion  of  all  that  had  happened  and  was  to 
happen. 

"  If  I'd  known  where  they'd  taken  you,  I'd  have 
come  to  see  you,  Fogg,"  she  said ;  "  but  really, 
what  with  business  and  so  many's  being  in  trouble 
that  one  hardly  remembers  who's  in  and  who's  out, 
I  may  as  well  tell  the  truth,  I  forgot  all  about 
you." 

Quality  was  so  refreshed  by  his  meal  that  he  got 
quite  energetic,  and  entered  fully  on  his  plans. 

"  Well,  you've  got  my  best  wishes  for  it  answer- 
ing, and  I  hope  it  will ;  and  if  you  do  as  I  recom- 
mend, you'll  keep  about  here,  for  all  your  old  trade 


336  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINOS. 

•will  come  back  to  you,  depend  on  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Sarah. 

Quality  said  he  had  thought  of  applying  to  Mr. 
Luggett  for  the  shop  in  the  street  round  the  corner 
of  Swan  lane. 

"  The  very  thing ;  apply  at  once,"  said  Mrs. 
Sarah. 

"But  he  may  refuse  me;  we  had  a  little  misun- 
derstanding, and  he  was  very  hard  upon  me  the 
last  time  I  saw  him,"  said  Quality. 

"  Then  with  his  good  will  you'll  never  get  it, 
for  he's  as  bitter  as  a  gall-nut  when  he  takes  again 
any  one,  and  \ve  all  know  there's  no  sweetening 
that"  said  Mrs.  Sarah. 

"Then  I  must  try  and  get  some  other  place," 
said  Quality. 

"No,  stick  to  that;  that's  the  place,"  said  Mrs. 
Sarah. 

"But  if  I  can't  get  it?"  said  Quality. 

"  Can't !  What's  to  hinder  you  ?  You  can't  get 
it  with  his  leave,  but  you  can  without,  I  suppose," 
said  Mrs.  Sarah. 

"  How  ?"  asked  Quality. 

"  Get  a  friend  to  take  it ;  that  Mr.  What-d'ye- 
call  him  that  came  for  your  bill — he's  a  good  hand 
to  do  business — get  him  to  take  it  and  let  it  after 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         337 

to  you  on  the  sly ;  he  won't  be  able  to  turn  you 
out,  for  he's  just  alive  and  tliat's  all,  they  say — no 
spirit  to  do  anything." 

"  Mr.  Grant  wouldn't  do  anything  on  the  sly, 
and  I — I  wouldn't,"  said  Quality. 

"  What !  not  to  such  a  hard-mouthed,  ill-sorted 
man  as  that  ?  I  would,  and  glory  in  it,  too,"  said 
Mrs.  Sarah,  exulting  at  the  thought  of  it. 

Quality  shook  his  head,  and  made  a  remark  or 
two  that  reminded  Mrs.  Sarah  of  what  Mr.  Grant 
had  said  about  him. 

"Ah,"  she  said,  "he  said  (Mr.  What-d'ye-call 
him)  that  you  had  taken  to  very  good  ways,  and  I 
was  glad  to  hear  it,  so  I  brought  you  this;  it's 
what  some  lady  leaves  at  the  shop  every  week,  and 
there  it  lays  on  the  ledge  till  she  comes  again,  for 
what  time  have  me  and  Betsy  got  to  read,  I  won- 
der ?  But  I  know  it's  about  what  is  good,  so  I'll 
lend  it  you,  and  you've  got  nothing  else  to  do  but 
read,  and  I'll  send  Betsy  with  a  little  something 
nourishing  on  Friday  night,  and  you  can  let  her 
have  it  again  in  time  for  the  lady." 

So  saying,  she  produced  a  tract  done  up  in 
brown  paper,  which  Quality  received  with  his 
usual  politeness,  and  after  a  little  more  kind  talk 
she  departed,  leaving  him  to  read  it  or  not  as  he 

22 


338  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

liked,  and  hoping  he  would  manage  to  get  over  his 
scruples  and  outwit  Mr.  Luggett. 

Quality  was  much  cheered.  What  a  precious 
elixir  is  kindness !  The  good  meal  had  given  him 
vigour,  "  put  heart  into  him,"  as  we  say ;  but  the 
pleasant  voice,  the  cordial  sympathy — these  had 
made  it  work  with  double  benefit. 

"  She  is  a  kind  creature,  I  always  liked  her,"  he 
thought,  stirring  his  little  fire  and  determining  to 
put  on  some  more  coal  on  the  strength  of  her  ad- 
vice. "As  she  says,  it's  of  no  use  to  save  the 
money  if  I  don't  use  enough  of  it  to  get  well ; 
that's  very  sensible.  She  has  paid  her  bill,  she 
says.  Well,  I  never  knew  her  pay  a  bill  before 
without  making  a  few  words  of  '  I  don't  remem- 
ber this,'  or  'Sure  this  is  a  mistake;'  but  she 
never  made  a  word  now;  it  must  have  been  be- 
cause I  was  low  in  the  world.  Very  feeling,  very 
feeling !" 

The  expression  of  his  face  was  wonderfully 
altered  as  he  sat  thus  ruminating;  the  smile  M'ith 
which  he  had  bidden  her  good-bye  still  lingered 
there.  He  forgot  now  the  sorrow  that  had  lately 
so  much  oppressed  him,  forgot  his  doubts  of  safety 
and  his  hopes  of  heaven,  his  heart  went  out  vigor- 
ously toward  the  new  start  he  hoped  to  make,  and 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.        339 

he  wondered  much  if  he  could  in  any  way  compass 
Mr.  Luggett's  shop.  Would  it  be  wrong  to  ask 
Mr.  Grant  to  take  it  and  sublet  it  to  him  without 
telling  Mr.  Luggett  ?  He  was  sure  if  it  was  wrong 
he  would  not  do  it  for  the  world — as  sure  as  he 
felt  that  Mr.  Grant  would  not — but  was  it  wrong  ? 
He  considered  it  on  all  sides,  and  got  so  deep  in 
his  subject  that  evening  began  to  close  in  before 
he  was  aware  of  it. 

"  I'll  light  a  bit  of  candle,"  he  said,  for  he  did 
not  always  indulge  in  that  expense,  reading  enough 
by  daylight,  as  he  had  nothing,  else  to  do,  and 
thinking  and  meditating  in  the  dark. 

"  I  haven't  read  much  to-day,"  he  thought  as 
he  got  his  candle.  "  I  mustn't  give  up  my  reading ; 
that  will  never  do." 

In  reaching  the  candle  he  struck  his  injured 
arm,  and  the  fear  of  increasing  the  pain  made  him 
hesitate  about  opening  the  heavy  drawer  of  the  old 
table  in  which  lay  his  Bible.  Should  he  go  to  bed 
without  reading?  Truth  to  tell,  his  head  and  heart 
were  so  full  of  plans  for  the  future  that  he  could 
have  willingly  gone  straight  to  bed,  and  given  up 
his  mind  to  it  till  he  fell  asleep,  very  much  in  the 
style  of  old  days.  But  he  dared  not,  and  he  was 
glad  when  the  tract  which  lay  on  the  table  caught 


340  RICHES  WITHOUT  WIXGS. 

his  eye.    "  This  is  all  about  the  Bible,"  he  thought; 
"  I  will  read  some  of  it." 

The  arrangement  was  very  satisfactory  to  him, 
for  it  not  only  appeased  his  conscience,  but  did  a 
part  of  the  work  Mrs.  Sarah  had  left  for  him  to  do, 
for  he  would  not  on  any  account  have  been  so  im- 
polite as  to  return  the  tract  without  reading  it,  so 
he  snuffed  his  candle  and  began  to  read.  The  sub- 
ject was,  "  The  Continuing  City."  It  opened  with 
a  bright  description  of  the  heavenly  Jerusalem, 
which  would  have  strongly  excited  Quality's  affec- 
tions a  short  time  before,  when  he  felt  weak  and 
trembling,  depressed  and  wretched,  forlorn,  for- 
saken and  hopeless  as  to  this  life.  Then  the  pros- 
pect of  fulness  of  joy  in  that  Presence  where  no 
sorrow  can  come,  for  no  sin  can  enter,  would  have 
been  very  soothing ;  the  sense  of  "nothing  here" 
would  have  made  him  cling  to  the  hope  of  "all 
there."  But  he  did  not  feel  trembling  now ;  his 
good  meal  had  steadied  his  hand  and  cleared  his 
head ;  the  cheery  talk  of  Mrs.  Sarah  had  brought 
him  back  to  a  friendly,  comfortable  world,  and  the 
prospect  of  Mr.  Luggett's  shop  had  drawn  him 
powerfully  toward  desiring  to  make  himself  once 
more  prosperous  and  comfortable  in  it.  So  the 
description  went  over  his  head.  He  read  it,  and 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         341 

said  twice  to  himself,  "Very  beautiful,"  with  a 
righteous  little  sigh,  but  he  looked,  before  he  had 
finished,  to  see  how  long  the  description  was.  Only 
a  page ;  the  next  went  on  to  speak  of  the  inhab- 
itants of  the  city.  Here  the  point  was  pressed  of 
its  being  the  purchase  of  the  blood  and  righteous- 
ness of  Jesus,  to  be  bestowed  by  him  on  his  own. 
people.  Quality  assented  to  this  without  any  de- 
mur, and  as  he  considered  his  mind  settled  on  that 
point  was  glad  when  it  was  finished. 

The  third  head  was  the  character  of  these  in- 
habitants. Quality  had  a  great  mind  to  put  out 
his  candle  and  go  to  bed ;  he  had  read  a  great  deal — 
a  matter  of  four  pages ;  he  would  finish  the  rest 
in  the  morning.  But  once  more,  after  a  minute 
of  indecision,  he  snuffed  his  candle  again  and  read 
on.  He  read,  and  insensibly  the  words  laid  hold 
on  him;  the  moral  character  and  spiritual  affec- 
tions were  drawn  with  force  from  Scripture  rules 
and  models.  He  became  staggered  ;  this  an  inhab- 
itant of  the  continuing  city  !  Alas !  where  was  his 
hope  ?  Had  he  those  earnest  longings  for  sanctifi- 
cation,  that  devout  love,  that  constraining  gratitude 
toward  the  Author  of  salvation  ?  Were  these  abid- 
ing in  him  ?  His  face  fell ;  he  saw  how  it  was — it 
was  only  while  he  was  uncomfortable  that  he  was 


342  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

heavenly-minded;  directly  things  brightened  a  lit- 
tle he  could  turn  his  back  on  heaven  ;  a  good  meal, 
and  a  kind  word,  and  good-natured  worldly  ad- 
vice, had  made  another  man  of  him.  Surely  he 
was  in  a  manner  like  Esau,  who  sold  his  birth- 
right for  a  mess  of  pottage !  Yes,  he  was  Esau — 
he  saw  it  now ;  he  never  had  been  sincere ;  if  he 
had  been,  such  trifles  could  not  have  so  influenced 
him. 

He  closed  the  tract  and  sat  with  his  troubled 
face,  looking  at  the  brown  cover.  "  The  Continu- 
ing City "  written  on  its  back  seemed  to  be  mock- 
ing him.  "  It's  not  for  me"  he  said,  peevishly, 
pushing  it  aside — "  it's  not  for  me.  I  may  as  well 
give  it  up.  I  shall  always  be  like  this,  and  a  cast- 
away in  the  end,  I  doubt !" 

"  Mr.  Fogg !  Oh,  you're  not  gone  to  bed  I  see. 
I'm  sorry  to  be  so  late,  but  I've  not  time  at  my 
disposal,"  said  Mr.  Grant,  coming  in. 

Quality  received  him  with  a  very  different  air 
from  that  with  which  he  would  have  done  it  an 
hour  sooner. 

"  I  fear  you  are  not  so  well,"  said  Mr.  Grant  ; 
"  the  pain,  has  it  returned  ?" 

"  I  knocked  my  arm,"  said  Quality,  glad  of  the 
excuse  to  account  for  the  tears  coming  into  his  eyes. 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         343 

"  Poor  man !  poor  man !"  said  Mr.  Grant. 
"  Well,"  taking  up  the  tract  and  looking  at  the 
title,  "  in  this  city  there  shall  be  no  pain." 

"Yes,"  said  Quality,  uneasily,  "I've  been  read- 
ing it." 

"And  doubtless  it  comforted  you  greatly,"  said 
Mr.  Grant. 

Quality  was  silent. 

"  Didn't  it  refresh  and  strengthen  you  ?"  asked 
Mr.  Grant,  who  never  asked  a  question  without 
waiting  for  an  answer. 

"  It  would  if,  if,  if—"  Quality  began. 

"  If  what  ?  You  surely  don't  doubt  the  truth  ?" 
said  Mr.  Grant,  gravely. 

"!Not  for  other  people — not  for  you  and  dear 
little  Tommy.  I  believe  it  for  all  like  him,  but — 
Oh  dear  I"  and  overcome  by  his  feelings,  he  could 
say  no  more. 

Mr.  Grant  saw  what  it  was,  and  the  extremity 
of  his  companion  softened  his  usually  cold  and  for- 
mal manner  to  one  of  Christian  tenderness. 

"Why  do  you  doubt,  my  brother?"  he  said, 
affectionately. 

"Oh,  don't  call  me  brother!  you  don't  know 
how  hollow  I  am.  I  believe,  if  ever  I  am  to  be 
a  Christian,  I  have  got  to  begin  quite  from  the  be- 


344  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

ginning,"  said  Quality  in  tones  of  the  deepest 
melancholy,  going  on  to  confess  the  fluctuations  of 
his  spiritual  condition  without  any  sparing  of 
himself. 

"  My  brother,"  said  Mr.  Grant,  with  still  greater 
warmth,  "  they  who  are  for  ever  banished  from  the 
continuing  city  are  not  troubled  with  such  doubts 
as  yours.  If  these  fears  of  yours  are  just,  then  I 
am  in  the  case  you  dread  for  yourself,  for  I  have 
them  too  often,  but — blessed  be  God  ! — not  to  give 
way  to  them,  but  to  fight  and  conquer  them 
through  Him  that  fighteth  for  us,  and  this  you 
must  do.  Remember  the  watchwords  of  the  whole 
warfare  are  *  Watch  and  pray.' " 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  watch,"  said  Quality, 
mournfully. 

"  Nay,  if  so,  how  was  it  you  discovered  so  much 
wrong  in  your  heart?"  asked  Mr.  Grant. 

A  flickering  of  light  passed  over  Quality's  face, 
but  he  said  again  : 

"  I  can't  pray !  I  try  to  pray,  but  I  can't  say 
(what  good  people  say)  I  love  to  pray  ;  I  can't,  and 
that's  the  truth.  I  can't  make  prayers ;  in  a  few 
words,  I  break  down,  and  begin  to  think  of 
something  else ;  I  do ;  it's  very  shocking,  but  I 
do  !"  he  said,  with  mournful  energy. 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         345 

"  Never  mind ;  let  your  broken  words  go  up  to 
heaven,"  said  the  schoolmaster.  "Remember, 
words  are  but  accidents  of  prayer;  your  blessed 
Advocate  will  put  these  broken  prayers  together, 
foolish  and  unworthy  as  they  are,  and  perfume  them 
with  his  own  merits." 

Quality  was  silent. 

"  Brother,  let  us  pray !"  said  the  schoolmaster. 

Half  an  hour  after  this  the  little  man  sat  once 
more  alone. 

But  he  was  not  alone,  and  he  knew  it. 

His  friend  had  earnestly  pleaded  for  the  presence 
of  the  Comforter,  that  Holy  Spirit  whose  brooding 
over  chaos  brought  out  beauty  and  harmony,  and 
whose  blessed  coming  into  the  weary,  aching,  lonely 
heart  fills  it  with  rest  and  peace  and  joy.  And 
his  prayer  was  heard,  and  the  tears  that  now  stole 
down  Quality's  face  were  those  of  a  penitent  child 
who  was  glad  of  pardon,  and  he  earnestly  whispered 
in  his  heart,  "Father,  gracious  Father,  I  have 
sinned ;  oh,  hold  me  up.  I  am  very  weak ;  hold 
me  up,  and  I  shall  be  safe  till  I  get  to  the  con- 
tinuing city !" 


34G  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

MR.  LTJGGETT'S  temper  had  not  improved  in  his 
illness;  his  spirits  had  become  much  embittered, 
and  the  pain  he  suffered  at  times  sadly  irritated 
him.  The  landlord  of  the  Three  Tuns  had  died  in 
the  hospital,  Mr.  Winks  was  confined  to  his  house, 
and  of  the  remainder  of  the  club,  which  was  now 
broken  up,  very  few  were  of  a  kind  that  would 
spend  spare  hours  with  the  miserable.  What  made 
their  visits  more  rare  was  the  injunction  of  the 
doctors,  that  the  auctioneer  was  to  take  only  a  pre- 
scribed quantity  of  stimulant,  and  that  no  strong 
liquor  of  any  kind  was  to  be  brought  before  him, 
as  he  was  so  uncontrollable  in  his  will  that  if  it 
were  he  would  probably  commit  some  fatal  excess. 
Thus  there  was  no  incentive  of  any  kind  to  the 
club  to  submit  to  the  dulness  of  such  a  sick  room. 
Mr.  Luggett  abused  them,  called  them  ungrateful 
and  hard-hearted ;  their  ingratitude  he  was  par- 
ticularly strong  upon,  for  had  he  not  often  given 
them  a  treat  at  the  Tuns  ?  Had  he  not  sung  good 
songs  to  them,  and  interested  them  while  they  were 
drinking  at  his  expense  with  many  pleasing  par- 
ticulars in  his  own  personal  history,  such  as  his 
beautiful  coat  and  excellent  stockings  ?  The  nurse 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         347 

was  as  much  provoked  with  them  as  he  was,  for  by 
means  of  their  visits  she  might  now  and  then  have 
got  a  holiday,  but  she  was  tied  continually  to  her 
post,  sighing  for  relief  and  not  very  amiable  some- 
times to  her  patient. 

Mr.  Grant  thought  it  was  about  the  dingiest, 
gloomiest  place  he  had  ever  seen  when  he  called,  a 
day  or  two  after  he  had  been  with  Quality,  on  the 
subject  of  the  shop. 

"  You  have  suffered  much,  Mr.  Luggett  ?" 

"  I  should  think  I  have,"  said  the  auctioneer. 

"  Confinement  is  very  trying,"  said  Mr.  Grant. 

"  I  should  like  you  to  try  it,"  said  the  auction- 
eer, whom  a  fit  of  pain,  hardly  passed  off,  had  left 
in  his  very  worst  temper. 

"  Thank  you !  I'm  grateful  that  it's  not  my  lot 
to  be  in  a  state  of  confinement,"  said  Mr.  Grant. 

Perhaps  Mr.  Luggett  thought  he  had  been  too 
rough.  A  visitor,  whatever  he  came  for,  was  valu- 
able, so  he  mended  his  manners  and  said,  "  Pain  is 
a  shocking  thing." 

Mr.  Grant  assented,  and  hinted  at  the  terrors  of 
that  place  where  pain  in  infinite  duration  and  ex- 
tent must  be  endured. 

Mr.  Luggett's  face  grew  dark;  he  made  no 
answer. 


348  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

"On  this  side  of  the  grave  we  are  on  praying 
ground,  therefore  on  hope's  ground,"  said  Mr. 
Grant. 

Mr.  Luggett,  as  many  had  done  before  him, 
wondered  who  and  what  his  visitor  was,  suspecting 
him  to  be  a  missionary  of  some  sort,  several  of 
whom  had  at  times  laboured  in  that  district.  He 
scowled  at  him  under  his  heavy  eyebrows,  but  said 
nothing. 

"  I'm  come  on  a  little  business,"  said  Mr.  Grant. 

"  Oh  !"  said  the  auctioneer,  relieved  to  hear  it. 

"  You  have  a  small  shop  in  this  street.  A  friend 
of  mine  wishes  to  take  it ;  is  it  to  be  had  ?" 

"  Don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Luggett. 

"  He  would  like  an  answer,"  said  Mr.  Grant. 

"  What  business  ?"  asked  Mr.  Luggett. 

Mr.  Grant  hesitated. 

"  Eating-house  ?"  asked  Mr.  Luggett. 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  said  the  schoolmaster. 

"  Quality  Fogg  ?"  asked  Mr.  Luggett. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Grant, 

"  ShaVt  have  it !"  said  Mr.  Luggett. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Mr.  Grant,  calmly. 

"  No  business  of  anybody's.  Sha'n't  have  it !" 
said  Mr.  Luggett. 

Mr.  Grant  expostulated,  warned,  advised,  all  in 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         349 

vain.  He  returned  to  Quality's  lodging  with  the 
account  of  his  ill  success,  and  recommended  him  to 
try  some  other  situation,  reminding  him  that  suc- 
cess was  not  pinned  to  that  spot,  and  declaring 
that  for  his  own  part  he  should  prefer  any  landlord 
to  Mr.  Luggett. 

While  he  was  talking,  who  should  come  in  but 
little  Mrs.  Sarah  Tucker?  Amicable  greetings 
passed  between  her  and  the  schoolmaster,  and  she 
was  briefly  made  acquainted  with  what  had  passed. 

While  Mr.  Grant  stayed,  having  an  awe  of  him 
which  she  could  neither  understand  nor  overcome, 
Mrs.  Sarah  said  nothing,  but  directly  he  was  gone 
she  said  to  Quality,  "Give  up  that  shop?  not  for 
twenty  old  Luggetts !  I'll  get  it  for  you ;  never 
trust  me  if  I  don't.  I  know  him ;  a  regular  old 
curmudgeon  he  is,  and  it's  all  fair  to  make  him  do 
good  against  his  will." 

"  But  Mr.  Grant  couldn't  do  it,"  said  Quality. 

"  Him  ?  no,  not  the  way  he  went  about  it — not 
likely;  he  was  sure  not  to  let  you  have  it,  we 
know  that.  He's  a  good  man  of  business,  that  Mr. 
What-d'ye-call  him,  with  honest  people,  but  he's 
no  match  for  such  as  old  Luggett.  No,  no.  I'll 
do  him  and  glad  of  the  job,  for  he  sold  me  a  table 
once  in  the  most  take-in  way  you  ever  knew,  and 


350  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINQS. 

not  a  penny  could  I  get  back ;  and  didn't  he  turn 
Betsy's  mother  out  of  his  house  when  she  lived 
under  him,  neck  and  crop,  just  because  she  gave 
her  mind  about  the  table  behind  his  back,  and  I 
was  so  fast-tongued  as  to  back  myself  by  telling 
him  her  words?  To  be  sure,  I  don't  forget  him, 
old  Turk !  and  I'll  go  to  him  straight  away  and 
see  if  I  don't  manage  it !" 

Quality  could  not  have  stopped  her  if  he  would. 
Mrs.  Sarah,  her  face  as  shiny  as  one  of  her  own 
copper  kettles,  her  eyes  twinkling  and  her  curls 
dancing  as  if  in  anticipation  of  victory,  was  at  the 
corner  house  in  no  time. 

It  was  a  benefit  to  the  street  that  the  auctioneer 
had  suffered  and  survived  his  sufferings,  for  the 
business  was  to  die,  or  at  least  to  faint  away,  till  he 
should  recover;  he  would  have  no  foreman,  no 
substitute,  to  cheat  or  worry  him.  So  the  street 
was  clear,  not  a  chest  of  drawers,  a  table  or  a 
chair  invited  the  affections  and  covetous  desires  of 
the  passengers  and  wayfarers. 

"Is  Mr.  Luggett  to  be  seen,  Mrs.  Thomas?" 
said  Mrs.  Sarah,  with  a  friendly  nod  to  the  nurse, 
as  if  her  whole  heart  was  full  of  sympathy  for 
her. 

"  I  don't  know  if  he'll  see  any  one  or  not ;  he's 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         351 

in  a  sweet  temper  to-day,"  said  Mrs.  Thomas,  de- 
lighted with  the  chance  of  giving  a  vent  to  her 
disgust. 

"  Oh,  dear  heart !  it  must  be  very  trying  to  you, 
I'm  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Sarah,  soothingly. 

Trying !  was  that  the  word  ?  Mrs.  Thomas  let 
her  know  speedily  it  was  not;  but  that  aggra- 
vating, tormenting,  ruinating,  and  much  worse 
words  if  they  could  be  coined,  were  all  too  weak, 
too  faint,  to  describe  her  condition. 

"Ah,  temper's  a  shocking  thing,  isn't  it, 
'specially  in  them  that  gives  way  to  it?  but  I 
s'pose  there's  no  help  for  it  with  him  till  he  gets 
better.  But  I've  got  a  bit  of  good  news  for  him ; 
I  thought  it  would  please  him,  and  that  will  be 
good  for  you,  you  see." 

"  There's  no  knowing  what  he  calls  good  news ; 
he's  been  rating  away  this  half  hour  about  a  gen- 
tleman as  came  for  the  shop  down  the  street,  and 
he  says  Mr.  Fogg  sha'n't  have  it;  he'd  sooner 
see  it  burnt  down  first,  and  you'd  have  thought 
he'd  seen  enough  of  fire,  wouldn't  you?" 

Mrs.  Sarah  looked  duly  shocked,  but  urged  the 
nurse  to  get  her  admittance. 

Mr.  Luggett  had  half  a  mind  to  say  no ;  he  con- 
sidered that  he  had  been  insulted  about  the  affair 


352  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

of  the  table,  which  was  the  precise  ground  of  Mrs. 
Sarah's  grudge. 

Mrs.  Thomas,  however,  hinted  that  folks  that 
had  so  few  visitors  might  make  much  of  those  they 
got,  and  said  that  Mrs.  Sarah  Tucker  brought  good 
news. 

"Dear  me,  Mr.  Luggett,  sir!  how  you  are 
changed !"  said  Mrs.  Sarah,  with  as  much  concern 
as  she  could  get  into  her  face  when  she  did  not  feel 
any  in  her  heart. 

Mr.  Luggett  felt  the  first  dose  of  flattery  to  be 
soothing,  and  said,  "I  look  bad,  don't  I?  I've 
been  worse,  I  can  tell  you." 

For  Mr.  Luggett,  being  always  full  of  himself, 
was  very  proud  now  of  his  sufferings,  when  he  was 
at  leisure  from  pain  to  exalt  himself  by  means  of 
them. 

"  Well,  have  you  ?"  said  Mrs.  Sarah ;  "  then  I 
pity  you !  You  look  for  all  the  world  as  if  you'd 
been  buried  and  dug  up;  now,  don't  he,  Mrs. 
Thomas?" 

Mr.  Luggett  was  much  softened  by  so  striking  a 
description  of  his  appearance — one  which  very  few 
people  besides  himself  would  have  considered  com- 
plimentary. 

"  And  what  are  the  doctors  doing  for  you  ?  and 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         353 

what  may  you  have?"  said  Mrs.  Sarah,  asking 
question  on  question,  and  entering  with  great  gusto 
into  his  abuse  of  his  ungrateful  friends  and  the 
exorbitant  expense  his  doctors  put  him  to. 

"  Oh  dear !  as  for  gratitude,  Mr.  Luggett,  you 
mustn't  look  for  it.  I've  looked  till  I'm  tired,  and 
forced  to  sit  down  without  it.  As  to  doctors,  keep 
me  from  doctors !  I  look  on  'em  all  as  worse  than 
the  biggest  plagues  they  cure — to  poor  people,  that 
is — but  a  man  of  your  property  ought  not  to  be  so 
hard  on  'em." 

Mr.  Luggett  was  quite  coy.  Mrs.  Sarah  saw  he 
was  in  a  mood  propitious  for  her  attack. 

"  I  suppose  you'll  be  laying  on  a  little  in  rents 
to  make  up  for  it ;  well,  you  gentlemen  with  your 
whole  streets  of  houses  can  afford  a  doctor,  if  any- 
body can.  And  that  reminds  me,  I  want  that  lit- 
tle shop  in  this  street  I'm  thinking  of  opening  it 
in  my  way,  putting  in  some  one  and  seeing  to  it 
that  they  make  it  answer.  I  hope  you'll  be  con- 
sidering, and  not  put  it  up  too  high.  I  suppose 
there's  a  wash-house  and  a  good  oven.  I've  not 
been  over  it." 

Mrs.  Sarah  spoke  very  fast,  shaking  her  curls 
with  a  jerk,  as  if  she  was  wholly  independent  of 
any  other  motive  than  the  one  assigned,  fixing  her 

23 


354  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

bright  black  eyes  in  a  half  defiant  way  on  him  to 
maintain  her  position. 

"Who'll  you  put  there?"  said  Mr.  Luggett, 
half  suspecting. 

"  Who  ?  can't  say  yet !  You  don't  know  of  a 
good  hand  do  you  ?  Betsy's  too  young ;  but  I 
shall  find  some  one,  I'll  be  bound." 

"  Not  Quality  Fogg  ?"  asked  Mr.  Luggett,  sus- 
piciously. 

"  Old  Fogg !  likely  that  I  Why  he's  shrivelled 
up  like  an  old  glove ;  he  won't  be  fit  to  work  for 
a  while,"  said  Mrs.  Tucker,  with  her  deceitful 
tongue. 

Mr.  Luggett  considered,  then  said,  "  Some  fellow 
has  been  about  it  for  him  this  morning." 

"  Why,  you  don't  say  so !"  cried  Mrs.  Sarah, 
looking  innocently  astonished. 

"I  wouldn't  let  it  to  him  at  any  price,"  said 
Mr.  Luggett. 

"That  I  wouldn't f"  said  Mrs.  Sarah.  "How 
is  he  to  make  the  rent  ?" 

"  I  don't  care  for  that,  he  shall  never  have  it !" 
said  Mr.  Luggett. 

"  You  keep  to  that ;  you  always  went  for  a  man 
of  your  word,"  said  Mrs.  Sarah;  "so  let  it  to  me. 
I'll  have  it  on  a  lease,  say  seven  years.  I  hope  by 


QUALITY  FOOG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         355 

that  time  to  have  done  business,  and  give  up  and 
retire  like  you,  Mr.  Luggett.  Dear !  how  comfort- 
able off  you  are!  what  a  chair  you've  got!  I 
should  think  this  was  worth  three  pounds  ten, 
new?"  she  said,  pinching  the  cushion  and' padding 
of  the  chair  with  a  critical  air. 

"  A  good  chair  enough,"  said  Mr.  Luggett,  look- 
ing at  it  complacently. 

"  Yes.  I  should  never  want  a  bed  if  I  had  such 
a  one.  Why,  it's  worth  being  bad  to  sit  in  it. 
Well,  about  this  lease  ?  I  must  be  going.  I  like  a 
lease,  because,  being  a  business  that  only  pays  in 
the  long  run,  I  shall  want  that  time  to  get  my 
money  well  back ;  but  I  hope  to  have  done  with  it 
then,  as  I  said." 

Mr.  Luggett  made  one  or  two  demurs,  but  after 
a  very  dextrous  fight  on  Mrs.  Sarah's  part  she 
conquered.  He  promised  her  the  shop  on  a  lease 
of  seven  years,  and  signed  a  promise  to  that  effect, 
Mrs.  Thomas  being  witness. 

"  I  shall  start  at  once,  and  anything  you  would 
like,  being  so  handy,  I  shall  be  proud  to  serve 
you,"  she  said.  "  You'll  have  the  lease  ready  for 
me  quickly,  won't  you  ?" 

Mr.  Luggett  assented,  and  she,  scarce  able  to 
contain  her  triumph,  went  back  to  Quality's  lodg- 


356  RICHES   WITHOUT   WINGS. 

ing,  and  taking  the  key  of  the  house  from  her 
pocket,  laid  it  on  the  table. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  I'd  do  him?"  she  said,  snap- 
ping her  fingers  with  delight. 

"  Really !  and  has  he  let  me  have  it  ?"  said 
Quality,  amazed. 

"Let  you  have  it?  you!  why,  he'd  as  soon 
have  let  it  to  the  flames.  He  says  so — l  rather  burn 
it  down  than  let  it  to  you ;'  that's  the  fun  of  it !" 
and  she  clapped  her  hands  with  delight. 

"  But  how  then  ?"  said  Quality,  looking  at  the 
key. 

"  Pooh !  can't  you  see  ?  I've  took  it,  and  you're 
going  into  it.  I'm  not  afraid  of  your  getting  the 
rent,  and  paying  it  too !  Well,  if  anybody  had 
done  me  such  a  turn,"  said  Mrs.  Sarah,  "I  wouldn't 
have  paid  'em  off  with  a  glum  look  like  that; 
that  I  wouldn't !" 

Quality  could  not  conceal  his  vexation  j  he  did 
not  speak. 

"  Never  a  word  of  a  thank'ee !"  said  Mrs.  Sarah, 
in  a  huff. 

"I  don't  think — I'm  sure  you  mean  to  be  so 
kind,  and  I  am  so  very  much  obliged  to  you,  and 
I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you ;  but  you  see  if 
Mr.  Luggett  thinks  that  you  are  going  into  it,  and 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEItfER.        357 

finds  out  that  I  am  his  tenant,  he'll  turn  me  out  at 
once." 

"  Can't,  can't !"  said  Mrs.  Sarah;  "got  a  lease 
for  seven  years  to  be  signed  in  a  week.  Keep  your 
own  counsel ;  never  say  a  word,  and  the  house  is 
yours.  So  good-bye,  and  get  well  on  it." 

"Mrs.  Tucker,  ma'am — Mrs.  Tucker,"  cried 
Quality  as  she  was  departing,  "I  really  humbly 
beg  your  pardon,  but  I  couldn't  let  you  do  such 
an  unpleasant  thing  as  to  deceive  Mr.  Luggett  on 
my  account." 

"  Unpleasant,  man !  how  you  talk !"  said  Mrs. 
Sarah.  "  I  tell  you  I  never  was  better  pleased." 

"  But  I  can't  be  a  party  to  deceiving  him,  ma'am. 
I'm  so  sorry,  I'm  so  very  sorry,  but  if  you  could 
have  got  him  to  let  me  have  it,  I  should  have  been 
glad  above  anything ;  but  this  way  it  would  be  so 
wrong — seem  so  dishonest !" 

"Oh  dear!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Sarah,  "what  a 
mincing  about  nothing !  You,  that  I'm  sure  never 
stood  upon  trifles  all  your  life,  for  all  you  kept 
such  a  tidy  name,  to  think  of  your  coming  out  so 
virtuous  all  at  the  end  !" 

Quality  was  sore  pained,  sore  puzzled,  but  he 
stood  firm ;  and  Mrs.  Sarah,  snatching  up  the  key 
when  she  found  he  was  in  good  earnest,  departed 


358  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

• 

in  very  high  wrath,  saying  he  must  manage  his 
own  affairs  in  future.  She  left  him  troubled  and 
grieved,  but  sure  he  had  done  right. 


CHAPTER   X. 

A  WHOLE  week  alone  is  a  great  trial  to  a  heart 
that  needs  the  support  of  human  sympathy ;  a 
whole  week  idle  is  a  great  trial  to  one  that  loves 
work,  to  whom  employment  is  enjoyment  and 
leisure  a  burden ;  and  Quality  Fogg,  one  of  the 
most  dependent  of  mortals  on  the  approval  and 
upholding  of  his  fellow-men,  one  of  the  most 
thorough  ingrain  workers  among  the  busy,  was 
alone  for  a  whole  week  after  Mrs.  Sarah  Tucker 
had  gone  off  like  a  rocket  in  a  burst  of  indigna- 
tion. He  had  been  alone  for  weeks  together  in 
the  hospital,  but  that  state  of  solitariness  had  had 
its  alleviations,  or  rather  diversions.  To  bear  his 
pain,  sharp  and  cutting  as  it  was,  was  work  enough, 
and  he  had  at  least  the  sad  relief  of  seeing  many 
fellow-sufferers  somewhat  more  grievously  afflicted 
than  himself.  But  now,  in  that  little  room,  blocked 
up  with  all  that  had  been  redeemed  from  the  ruins, 
which,  little  as  it  was,  left  him  scarcely  space  to 
move ;  with  no  face  to  see  unless  he  went  down 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         359 

into  the  street ;  enough  at  leisure  from  suffering  to 
feel  his  ruling  passion  for  business,  and  too  weak 
to  engage  in  any, — he  was,  he  felt,  at  the  very  bot- 
tom of  the  well. 

It  was  the  seventh  day ;  he  knew  by  the  man 
going  round  with  milk,  whom  he  watched  from 
his  little  window,  that  it  must  be  about  five  o'clock. 
He  had  been  reading  till  his  eyes  ached,  and  he 
took  off  his  spectacles  and  put  the  Bible  into  the 
drawer. 

"It's  too  late  to  expect  any  one  to-day,"  he 
thought.  "  Another  lonely  night,  and  if  I  live  to 
see  to-morrow,  another  lonely  day  most  likely.  If 
I  live  to  see  to-morrow?  True,  I  may  die  to- 
night ;  I  feel  very  weak.  I  may  be  called  away  to- 
night ;  who  can  say  ?" 

This  thought  came  on  him  with  great  force,  and 
he  tried  to  realize  it. 

"The  Continuing  City,"  which  Mrs.  Sarah  in 
her  tantrum  had  left  behind,  lay  on  the  table.  He 
had  studied  it  well  during  the  week. 

"  Shall  I  go  there  ?"  he  thought.  "  Yes,  I  think, 
I  believe  so.  Christ  died  for  sinners,  not  for  the 
righteous.  But  then  how  useless  I  have  been  ever 
since  I  began  to  believe  in  him!  What  have  I 
done  in  his  service?  Never  mind,  he  hath  no 


360  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

pleasure  in  the  strength  of  a  man.  The  Lord's 
delight  is  in  them  that  fear  him,  and  put  their 
trust  in  his  mercy.  Oh  dear !  What  a  gospel  it  is ! 
To  think  of  poor  me.  A  vain,  foolish,  selfish  man 
I  have  been  all  my  life,  and  now  I  am  little  better 
than  a  beggar ;  and  it  may  be  before  I  can  do  a 
stroke  in  God's  service,  I  may  be  called  to  answer 
for  my  sins.  And  yet  there  is  nothing  to  fear.  '  I 
don't  care  for  my  good  deeds '  (I  might  leave  that 
out),  '  and  I  don't  fear  my  bad  deeds.  Christ  has 
died,  and  that's  my  salvation !'  Oh,  Davy,  you 
did  me  a  good  turn  when  you  told  me  those  words ! 
Poor  Davy  !  where  is  he  now  ?  Hard  at  work,  or, 
it  may  be,  being  carried  on  a  litter,  wounded  and 
maimed  for  life ;  or,  it  may  be,  dead  and  buried ; 
for  who  would  think  of  letting  me  know  ?  And 
he's  been  very  long  away." 

His  heart  beat  quick  at  the  thought.  He  looked 
again  at  the  little  brown  tract,  and  thought  of  the 
continuing  city,  where  there  was  neither  parting 
nor  death. 

"  Thank  God  !  Blessed  be  God  for  the  glorious 
gospel !"  he  ejaculated.  He  was  quite  surprised  at 
himself  as,  after  prayer  for  himself  and  Davy,  and 
all  whom  he  could  remember,  for  such  grace  as 
they  needed,  he  prepared  to  take  his  supper  and 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         361 

go  to  bed.  He  had  never  felt  so  strong  in  heart, 
so  calm,  so  restful,  so  satisfied. 

"It  is  the  gospel,  it  is  believing  the  gospel, 
that  makes  me  happy,  that's  it,"  he  thought. 
"  Who  can  help  being  happy  that  believes  the 
gospel  ?" 

"  These  people  are  generally  quiet,"  he  thought. 
"  How  noisy  they  are  to-night !"  as  he  heard  a  con- 
siderable amount  of  thumping  up  the  narrow,  angu- 
lar staircase. 

A  few  minutes  more  and  he  would  have  been  in 
bed,  when  a  bang  at  the  ricketty  door  startled  him. 

"  What  is  it?  what  is  it?"  he  cried,  half  afraid 
of  fire,  which  always  came  into  his  mind  with  any 
sudden  alarm. 

"Here's  a  thing  they've  just  got  out  of  the  last 
heap  of  rubbitch,  Master  Fogg.  Will  you  have  it 
in  ?"  cried  the  master  of  the  house  outside  the  door, 
which  Quality's  feeble  hands  could  not  readily 
unfasten. 

"Will  it  stand  here?  What  is  it?"  said  Qual- 
ity, looking  round  his  straitened  quarters. 

"  Think  it's  a  meat-safe,  by  the  looks  of  it ;  but 
one  side's  battered  in  so  there's  not  much  shape 
about  it,"  said  the  man.  "  I  wonder  they  thought 
it  worth  picking  out,  for  my  part." 


362  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

"My  safe!  Oh,  I  am  glad — delighted!"  said 
Quality  to  himself.  "Now  I  shall  know  about 
ray  ledger  for  certain.  Please  to  bring  it  in.  I'll 
make  room  for  it,"  he  continued  aloud,  opening 
the  door. 

The  poor  old  safe  presented  a  most  rueful  ap- 
pearance, crushed  in  on  one  side  and  covered  with 
dirt  all  over. 

"  'T won't  fetch  sixpence,"  said  the  man. 

"  Mustn't  judge  of  things  by  the  outside  always," 
said  Quality,  in  a  chuckling  tone. 

The  safe  was  shoved  in,  and  the  master  of  the 
house  declared  down  stairs  that  a  man  must  be 
low  in  the  world  that  could  rejoice  over  such  prop- 
erty as  that. 

As  soon  as  he  was  alone,  Quality  went  to  work. 
He  hammered  a  little  at  the  fastening;  the  first 
sharp  knock  broke  a  piece  of  it  off,  it  was  so  brittle 
from  exposure  to  heat. 

"  There  they  are,  if  they  are  saved !"  he  ex- 
claimed, putting  his  arm  into  the  hole.  He  worked 
it  round  and  round,  but  could  feel  nothing.  By 
degrees  he  increased  the  opening,  and  now  he  could 
look  in,  and  in  the  corner  was  a  heap  of  cindery 
ashes. 

"  Well !"  he  cried,  after  a  pang  of  disappoint- 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         363 

ment,  "  I  wish  now  it  had  never  been  found.  And 
yet  that's  foolish  enough,  for  then  I  should  never 
have  been  certain — now  I  am ;  and,  after  all,  cer- 
tainty is  best.  Fretting's  no  use,  no  more  than  these 
ashes,"  he  continued.  "  I'll  go  to  bed.  Poor  old 
ledger!  is  that  all  that's  left  of  my  work ?  Well, 
surely  never  was  a  better  proof  that  it  is  but  lost 
labour  to  rise  up  early  and  late  take  rest,  and  eat 
the  bread  of  carefulness." 

He  was  still  sitting  on  the  ground  by  the  ruin, 
his  hands  and  face  not  improved  by  the  dirt  they 
had  come  in  contact  with,  and  there  was  a  little 
dejection  on  the  latter,  notwithstanding  his  resigna- 
tion, when  the  door  opened  at  his  back  and  a  hearty 
laugh  made  him  look  up. 

"  Davy !  you  !"  he  cried,  without  attempting  to 
rise,  he  was  so  surprised. 

"Oh,  I  never!"  cried  Davy, with  another  laugh. 
"If  you  could  only  see  yourself,  you'd  laugh 
doubles,  that  you  would." 

"I've  got  nothing  much  to  laugh  at,"  said 
Quality,  a  little  affronted  and  pointing  to  the  safe. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Davy,  composing  himself. 

"It  was  my  old  ledger,"  said  Quality,  with  a 
sigh. 

"  That !"  exclaimed  Davy. 


364  RICHES   WITHOUT   WINGS. 

11  My  safe :  in  that  I  put  it,  with  all  ray  papers 
the  very  night  before  the  fire." 

"  Well,  'tis  cooked,  safe  enough,"  said  Davy, 
looking  in  at  the  ashes. 

"Yes;  it's  a  pity,  but  it  can't  be  helped,"  said 
Quality.  "  I'm  rather  stiff,  lend  me  a  hand,  there's 
a  good  fellow.  It  won't  be  the  first  time  you've 
raised  me.  Oh,  Davy,  I've  longed  to  see  you  and 
missed  you  ever  so,  and  really,  now  you  are  come,  I 
don't  care  a  bit  for  anything.  We'll  turn  out  this 
poor  mess,  and  then  you'll  have  room  to  sit." 

There  was  a  bit  of  looking-glass  which  a  former 
lodger  had  fixed  in  the  window-pane ;  to  that  Davy 
introduced  Quality,  when  he  had  helped  him  up, 
and  the  result  was  a  hearty  laugh  together. 

"  But  it's  too  bad  to  laugh  at  you,  for  all  there's 
no  helping  it,"  said  Davy.  "Get  your  face  clean, 
and  put  the  kettle  on  and  make  a  cup  of  tea ;  a 
good  one.  I'll  stand  treat.  I'm  glad  your  fire's 
in.  I'm  very  tired.  I've  had  a  long  spell  to  get 
at  you.  I'll  turn  out  old  Shrivel;"  and  he  went 
to  work  to  eject  the  safe. 

Quality  with  alacrity  did  his  part  toward  the 
entertainment,  Davy  being  struck  as  he  did  it  with 
his  cheerful  look  and  his  calm,  placid  demeanour, 
equally  free  from  dejection  and  excitement. 


QUALITY  FOQG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         365 

CHAPTER    XI. 

QUALITY  had  but  one  chair  in  his  room  that 
was  safe ;  the  other  two  had  suffered  too  much  from 
the  flames  to  be  useable,  and  were  up  in  the  corner, 
one  nursing  the  other  in  the  closest  packing. 

"Sit  on  the  bed,  Davy,"  said  Quality,  "it's 
most  comfortable ;  I'll  take  the  chair." 

So,  Davy  on  the  bed  and  Quality  on  the  chair, 
the  old  table  being  close  to  both,  they  began  their 
tea.  Quality  had  nothing  to  produce  but  bread 
and  hard  cheese,  but  Davy  took  a  huge  German 
sausage  from  his  pocket,  and  chopping  off  some 
inches,  handed  it  to  his  companion. 

"  Oh  dear !"  said  Quality,  breaking  the  skin  by 
which  it  dangled;  "now  this  reminds  me  of  old 
days.  It's  a  very  good  one,  Davy,  wherever  you 
got  it." 

"They're  all  exactly  alike,  only  some's  bigger 
than  others,  which  is  a  great  improvement;  and 
when  you  take  to  the  business  again  you  mind  to 
keep  some  grown-up  fellows  like  this  for  me.  I 
like  a  thing  big  enough  for  you  to  give  a  bit  to  a 
friend." 

"Heigh,  Davy!"  said  Quality;  "why,  one  like 
that  would  serve  me  for  a  week !" 


366  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

"  You !"  cried  Davy,  looking  at  him  with  a 
good-humoured,  half-pitying  expression,  "  why  it's 
bigger  than  you  if  you  was  measured!  Not  likely 
you'd  finish  it  at  once  !" 

Quality  enjoyed  the  joke  and  laughed  with  him, 
and  considering  the  appointments  of  the  meal,  the 
materials  of  it  and  the  circumstances  of  the  host,  a 
stranger  would  have  said  it  could  not  really  be  a 
very  difficult  thing  to  be  happy. 

"  What  a  stifling  place  this  is !"  was  the  first 
word  of  complaint,  and  it  came  from  Davy. 

"Stifling!  it's  small,  but  I  have  been  very 
thankful  for  the  shelter  while  without  any  other 
home,"  said  Quality,  looking  round  him  compla- 
cently. 

"That's  what  we  had  for  sermon  on  Sunday: 
'Learn  in  whatever  state  I  am  therewith  to  be 
content;'  and  'seems  to  me,  Master  Fogg,  you've 
took  in  a  bit  of  that  kind  of  thing  since  I  saw 
you,"  said  Davy. 

"  Oh,  dear  Davy,  I  don't  know  what  I  take  in 
or  what  I  don't,  only  I  know  the  Lord  is  very 
good  to  me — oh,  so  good !  I  haven't  words  to  say 
how  good." 

"  Don't  want  'em,"  said  Davy,  earnestly.  "  Won- 
der we  could  ever  go  on  so  long  like  fellows  asleep !" 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.        367 

he  added,  striking  the  bedstead  with  his  open  hand 
and  looking  down. 

Quality,  after  a  few  more  such  interchanges  of 
grateful  confession,  told  him  all  he  had  to  tell,  and 
Davy  highly  approved  of  his  rejecting  Mrs.  Sarah's 
proposal,  saying,  "Above  board's  best,  no  good 
comes  of  sneaking !" 

"  I  shall  get  a  place  somewhere,"  said  Quality. 

Davy's  nod  of  acquiescence  was  as  good  as  a 
volume  of  solid  argument  on  the  certainty  of  all 
coming  right. 

"  You'll  come  to  me  to-morrow  ?"  said  Quality 
as  they  parted. 

"  Hope  so,"  said  Davy ;  "  I  want  to  see  you  at 
work  again.  I  think  you'd  be  all  right  then." 

"When  I'm  a  leetle  stronger,"  said  Quality, 
dubiously. 

"  Have  a  hand  to  help  you,"  said  Davy. 

"  It  wouldn't  pay,  Davy,"  said  Quality,  shaking 
his  head. 

"  Don't  know  !  a  good  hand,  straightfor'ard  and 
sharp,  why  not  ?"  said  Davy. 

"  Where  shall  I  find  one  like  that?"  said  Quality. 

"  My  wife,"  said  Davy. 

"  Your  wife !  why,  I  never  knew  you  were  mar- 
ried," said  Quality,  surprised. 


368  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

"  Shouldn't  wonder !  haven't  known  it  long  my- 
self," said  Davy,  laughing. 

"  I  hope  she'll  be  a  good  wife,  that  I  do !"  said 
Quality,  earnestly. 

'  She's  got  rny  best  wishes  that  way,  too,"  said 
Davy,  laughing.  "She's  wonderful  at  pie-making, 
and  turns  out  all  manner  of  things  in  no  time,  and 
she's  as  true  as  a  line,  and  she's  a  good,  real  good 
creature" — his  voice  was  a  little  shaken  with  emo- 
tion as  he  said  this — "and  I  thought,  if  you'd  be 
agreeable,  we'd  all  take  a  place  together,  and  she 
could  help  with  the  shop.  Heigh  !  what  d'ye  think 
of  it?" 

Quality  could  not  in  a  moment  take  in  so  im- 
portant an  arrangement ;  he  agreed  to  "  think  it 
over,"  and  the  friends  were  to  meet  early  in  the 
morning  to  settle  the  point,  Davy  promising  to 
bring  his  missus  that  Quality  might  judge  by  the 
looks  of  her  if  she  wasn't  all  that  he  said. 

At  one  time  such  novel  hopes  and  such  mo- 
mentous questions  would  have  kept  him  wide 
awake  for  hours,  but  in  a  measure  he  now  knew 
the  wisdom  of  "  casting  all  your  care  upon  Him," 
believing  that  "he  careth  for  you."  So,  with  a 
brief  prayer  that  all  things  might  be  according  to 
the  will  of  his  Father  and  have  his  blessing,  he 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         369 

fell  asleep  and  dreamed  of  the  continuing  city. 
The  unusual  fatigue  of  the  evening  made  him  sleep 
till  late,  the  consequence  of  which  was  his  being 
awoke  by  Davy's  hammer  on  the  door. 

"  Master  Fogg !  Master  Fogg !  is  this  your 
manners,  to  keep  the  ladies  waiting  for  you  ?"  he 
cried. 

"  Oh  dear,  dear !"  exclaimed  Quality,  tumbling 
out  of  bed.  "  Davy,  I  can't  open  the  door  till  I'm 
ready.  I  didn't  know  you'd  bring  Mrs.  Bowles  so 
early.  Now  don't  knock  again ;  it  flusters  me  so 
that  I  can't  catch  hold  of  a  single  button." 

"  Hold  on !  missus  shall  get  in  the  safe  to  keep 
warm ;  the  air's  rather  sharp  out  here,"  said  Davy, 
laughing. 

Quality  made  his  toilette  in  all  possible  haste 
and  arranged  his  room;  then,  opening  the  door, 
bowed  most  politely  to  his  visitors. 

"  It's  a  poor  place,  mum,"  he  said  to  a  fine,  open- 
countenanced  young  woman  whom  Davy  intro- 
duced as  Mrs.  Bowles  by  a  significant  nod,  and 
«  This  is  Kitty." 

Quality  said  he  would  light  the  fire  in  a  mo- 
ment, but  Davy,  twirling  him  round,  told  him  to 
put  on  his  top  coat  and  come  with  them. 

"  We  haven't  had  breakfast  yet ;  I  thought  we'd 

24 


370  HICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

get  some  somewhere  together  and  settle  the  busi- 
ness at  once.  How  d'ye  like  Kitty  ?" 

Quality  smiled. 

"  You  might  say  out  now,"  said  Davy.  "  I  took 
to  her  at  first  sight— didn't  I,  Kitty?— but  I'd 
heard  what  she  was." 

The  trio  adjourned  to  an  eating-house  hard  by, 
and  the  more  Quality  saw  of  Kitty,  the  more  he 
liked  her. 

"  I  think  we  should  do  together,"  he  whispered 
confidingly  to  Davy  as  they  rose  to  leave  the  shop. 

"  Course  we  should,"  said  Davy  out  loud ;  "  you 
and  she  can  spin  a  yarn  about  the  work  and  that 
and  I'll  go  and  look  after  a  place." 

"  Where  shall  we  go  ?"  said  Quality. 

"  To  your  quarters ;  there's  room  for  two,  and 
Kitty  '11  clean  the  safe,"  said  Davy,  laughing. 

"  Davy,  you  won't  take  an  expensive  place — 
nothing  out  of  the  way?"  said  Quality,  a  little 
nervously. 

"  All  right,  do  naught  without  your  mind  to  it," 
said  Davy. 

Quality  and  Kitty  went  to  the  little  lodging,  and 
Davy  went  to  the  corner  house  in  Swan  lane  and 
asked  for  Mr.  Luggett. 

The  nurse  asked  what  he  wanted  with  him. 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.        371 

"  I'll  let  him  know  when  I  see  him,"  said  Davy, 
coolly. 

There  was  a  "no-denial"  look  about  him  that 
made  Mrs.  Thomas  hesitate  before  saying,  as  she 
intended,  that  Mr.  Luggett  did  not  see  strangers. 
Davy  looked  down  at  her  very  much  as  he  would 
have  done  at  a  big  fence  lie  meant  to  step  over. 

"  Go  and  tell  him  I  saved  his  life,  and  I'm  come 
to  see  him,"  he  said. 

Mrs.  Thomas  obeyed  without  a  word,  and  re- 
turned with  an  invitation  to  him  to  follow. 

"  So,"  said  the  auctioneer ;  "  you  saved  my  life, 
did  you?" 

"  I  did — picked  you  like  a  blazing  coal  out  of 
the  fire  when  the  folks  said  l  He's  dead ;  no  use  to 
go  after  him.' " 

Mr.  Luggett  shuddered,  and  passed  his  hand  be- 
fore his  eyes. 

"  I  think  I  remember  you.  Very  tall — yes.  I 
couldn't  move,  and  a  tall  man  lifted  me ;  was  that 

you?" 

"  'Twas,"  said  Davy. 

"  You  never  came  for  the  reward.  I  offered  a 
reward  when  I  got  better,"  said  Mr.  Luggett. 

"  Never  mind  the  reward.  I  went  off  another 
road  to  work.  I've  come  back  with  my  wife  and 


372  RICHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

mean  to  put  her  in  business,  fear  of  anything  com- 
ing hard  upon  me — eating-house  line.  I  should 
like  your  shop  in  the  street  here." 

"  The  key  came  back  yesterday.  I  had  let  it, 
but  the  woman  brought  it  back,  I  don't  know 
why,"  said  Mr.  Luggett. 

Davy  did,  but  it  was  not  his  business. 

"What  rent?"  he  asked. 

"  I  should  like  to  know  a  little  about  my  ten- 
ant," said  Mr.  Luggett,  who  was,  however,  affected 
by  the  same  feeling  that  had  made  Mrs.  Thomas 
so  submissive. 

"  I  should  think  you  know  something  about 
me,"  said  Davy.  "  If  I  hadn't  made  acquaintance 
with  you  that  night,  you'd  never  have  had  no  shop 
to  let  this  day." 

"  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,  indeed,"  said 
Mr.  Luggett ;  "  and  I  will  let  you  have  the  shop, 
if  you  will  give  me  good  security  for  the  rent." 

"If  we  can't  make  the  rent,  we  won't  stop 
there,"  said  Davy. 

A  few  more  questions,  with  answers  as  brief 
and  decided,  and  Mr.  Luggett  felt  compelled  to  let 
the  shop. 

"  Tell  you  all  about  it,"  said  Davy.  "  My  wife 
knows  some  of  the  dodges  of  the  thing ;  but  I 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.        373 

•wouldn't  venture  on  it  if  Master  Fogg,  as  was 
burnt  out  just  after  you,  hadn't  promised  to  live 
with  us ;  and  as  his  name  is  up  in  these  parts,  I 
mean  to  put  it  over  the  door.  So  you  see  you'll 
be  pretty  sure  of  your  money." 

Mr.  Luggett  looked  black.  Davy  stood  up 
straight  before  him,  and  fixed  his  great  eyes  on 
his  face.  Mr.  Luggett  pushed  the  key  to  him,  and 
said,  "  I  let  it  to  you,  not  to  him.  You  saved  my 
life,  and  I  can't  refuse  you ;  but  I  never  would 
have  let  it  to  him." 

"  All  right,"  said  Davy,  "  you  understand  it ; 
and  I  hope  some  day  you'll  forgive  him  whatever 
he's  done." 

So  the  shop  was  taken,  as  Davy  said,  with  "  no 
sneaking,"  and  in  an  incredibly  short  time  Quality 
moved  into  it,  with  Davy  and  his  wife. 

It  was  well  stocked,  and  Kitty's  cookery,  which 
was  a  perfect  marvel  to  her  husband,  was  blazed 
about  the  neighbourhood,  and  customers  flocked 
fast. 

Mr.  Grant  brought  a  small  sum,  after  much  per- 
severing work  among  the  creditors,  declaring  that 
he  saw  no  chance  of  more,  as  they  knew  he  could 
prove  nothing  against  them,  but  told  Quality  to 
remember,  while  he  regrej^cd  the  loss  of  his  ledger, 


374  RICHES  WITHOUT  WINGS. 

that  it  was  a  happy  illustration  of  his  cancelled 
sins. 

Mrs.  Tucker  was  very  shy  of  Quality  for  some 
time.  She  was,  in  addition  to  anger  with  him, 
jealous  of  Davy's  being  able  to  do  what  she  had 
failed  in,  and  jealous  moreover  of  his  clever  wife, 
whose  reputation  in  "their  line"  threatened  to 
eclipse  hers. 

But  time,  patience  and  kindness  worked  won- 
ders. 

Quality  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  throw 
away  his  safe,  and  Mrs.  Bowles,  stipulating  to  be 
allowed  to  clean  it,  allowed  it  a  place  in  the 
kitchen. 

"  Mr.  Fogg,  Mr.  Fogg,"  she  cried  at  the  inner 
door  of  the  shop  where  he  was  serving  customers, 
"  I  can't  come  into  the  shop  I'm  so  black,  but  I've 
found  your  books.  They  were  all  jammed  down 
between  the  sides  of  the  safe  that  was  broken  in." 

"My  ledger?  no!"  exclaimed  Quality. 

But  it  was  his  ledger  and  his  books,  and  some 
copies  of  bills  not  sent  out. 

"Oh  dear!"  he  cried,  "to  think  of  it's  coming 
to  light  after  all !" 

It  was  an  important  event  to  him,  for  Mr.  Lug- 
gett,  who  was  one  that  bad  held  back,  finding  he 


QUALITY  FOGG'S  OLD  LEDGER.         375 

could  not  deny  the  proof  that  the  flames  had 
spared,  sent  and  paid  the  bill ;  and  the  example 
spread,  and  many  others  came  forward  and  did 
the  same. 

"  I'll  never  put  another  entry  here,"  said  Qual- 
ity. "  I'll  keep  the  old  book  as  it  is,  to  remind 
me  of  things  that  business  and  ease  and  prosperity 
may  help  me  to  forget ;"  and  the  old  ledger  stood 
on  the  shelf  in  a  clean  cover  of  cartridge  paper, 
with  this  inscription,  which  it  cost  him  some  labour 
to  compose : 

"Once  I  was  everything,  then  I  was  nearly 
nothing ;  now  I'm  a  something  to  bring  to  remem- 
brance the  only  true  good." 

Quality  was  fond  of  showing  it  to  his  visitors, 
if  he  thought  they  would  sympathize  in  the  story, 
and  expounded  with  much  feeling  the  meaning  of 
the  sentiment,  giving  a  history  of  the  change  which 
God  by  a  series  of  providences,  sanctifying  them 
by  his  Spirit,  had  wrought  in  his  heart. 

Mr.  Luggett  never  meant  to  forgive  him,  but  he 
did  at  last,  and  there  were  those  who  hoped  his 
unfailing  kindness  and  attention  to  him  were  pro- 
ductive of  the  happiest  results.  As  to  Mrs.  Sarah, 
she  said  wonders  would  never  cease  when  she 
found  the  old  man  being  wheeled  down  to  the  shop 


376  ETCHES   WITHOUT  WINGS. 

to  eat  a  few  fresh  oysters  which  Davy  had  brought, 
home  from  one  of  his  expeditions. 

She  also  found  her  end  in  the  friendship  of  that 
godly  family,  and  not  only  she,  but  others;  for 
if  one  sinner  destroys  much  good,  yet  the  love  of 
Christ,  even  in  the  weakest  vessels,  is  mighty 
through  God  to  the  pulling  down  of  the  strong- 
holds of  the  evil  one. 


THE   END. 


A    000  056  005    2 


